Her Own Way
by nick48654
Summary: It has been six months since the end of Recovery and Resolutions, and Nick and Judy have come to some measure of agreement regarding their relationship, and on their future together. They take the "next step" in their relationship, and some earlier problems are resolved (only to be replaced by other problems, naturally). There are no happy endings, because nothing ever really ends
1. Chapter 1: Honor and Reputation

**Author's Note**

This is the fourth story in my Zootopia fan fiction series. The first story, **A Week In The Life** takes place after Nick has completed most of his yearlong probationary period following graduation from the Zootopia Police Academy. The second story, **Another Step on the Path** , takes place immediately after the end of **A Week In The Life**. The third story, **Recovery and Resolutions** , starts a couple of weeks after the end of **Another Step on the Path** , after Nick has been released from the hospital, but is still recovering from his injuries. This story, **Her Own Way** , begins six months after the end of **Recovery and Resolutions**.

This first chapter will be posted on 2 September, 2016 if all goes according to plan, and succeeding chapters will appear at one week intervals (on 9 September, 16 September, 23 September and 30 September through chapter 5), assuming that all goes as planned.

 **Summary**

It has been six months since the end of **Recovery and Resolutions** , and Nick and Judy have come to some measure of agreement regarding their relationship, and on their future together. They take the "next step" in their relationship, and some earlier problems are resolved (only to be replaced by other problems, naturally). There are no happy endings, because nothing ever really ends (with apologies to Peter S. Beagle).

Her Own Way

 ** _"I have learned that only two things are necessary to keep one's wife happy. First, let her think she's having her own way. And second, let her have it." – Lyndon B. Johnson_**

Chapter 1: Honor and Reputation

 _"Reputation is what other people know about you. Honor is what you know about yourself. Guard your honor. Let your reputation fall where it will. And outlive the bastards."_

 _Aral Vorkosigan to Miles Vorkosigan, in_ _ **A CIVIL CAMPAIGN**_ _by Lois McMaster Bujold_

Friday, End of Day Shift, Wilde's & Hopps' Office, Precinct 1

Nick Wilde stretched and settled back into his chair. He reached up and brought his index finger down hard on the enter key, and the last of his paperwork for the day was sent on its electronic way. He looked over at Hopps' still vacant desk; she'd been working a "temporary" assignment in Vice for some six months, and it was only on the weekends that he'd been able to see his former partner.

Wilde stretched again, sighed, and checked the clock for perhaps the tenth time in the last hour. _Carrots_ _ **should**_ _have been done by now – even if she took the time to shower, again,_ he thought. He yawned, and sighed.

The office door slammed open; Wilde spun around to find Lieutenant Hopps striding in and over to his desk. She grabbed his muzzle and pulled his head down, and she looked carefully into his nostrils.

"Good, you're wearing nose filters," she said.

Wilde shook himself, and pulled his muzzle back out of the lapine doe's grasp. "It's nearly December … of **_course_** I'm wearing nose filters. Do you think I'm stupid?" was his angry retort.

"Sly bunny, dumb fox," Judy said, pointing first at herself and then at Nick. "But it's nice to know that you're not a complete moron."

"I'm not trying to get scent drunk – please remember that I gave you my word, remember? Or are you coming to question it … again?"

"No, Nick, but sometimes you seem to take too many chances for your own good."

Nick couldn't help but laugh, hollow though the sound was. "Look who's talking! Though at least you aren't taking all that many chances in Vice."

The lapine doe scowled at her former partner. "Just what do you think I've been doing in Vice these last six month?"

"Dressing up and trying to entice stupid males – presumably buck rabbits – into trying to 'pay for play', and then busting them when you get into a prepared hotel room," Nick said. "At least, that's what I gathered from Officer Fuchs' description of her short stay in Vice. It's not the nicest of assignments – but at least it shouldn't be all that dangerous. It's not as though you were **_actually_** trying to make a living 'in the life'," Wilde said.

"Did Fuchs mention the perfumes?"

"Perfumes?"

"Pheromone laden perfumes. Vice insisted on me practically drenching myself in the stuff. Why do you think that I've been showering at end of shift every day for the last six months?"

"I just assumed that you were trying to get the 'filth' of the day's work off of you. If you're wondering at my use of nose filters – heck – it's getting into mating season for my species, so I really **_have_** to pay some small attention to that 'warm furry aroma'."

"I'm just glad that those filters block **_all_** the pheromonal perfumes – natural and artificial. Hence any traces that might be left of what I was drenched in this shift," Hopps said.

"Well, I can't smell any perfume right now – I can't smell much of **_anything_** with these filters in place. And with every vixen coming into heat over the next few weeks, I'll just keep wearing filters."

"That's fine by me. I'd like Friday Flicks night to become our 'private time' again, Nick. Especially tonight," Hopps said.

"Oh? And why would that be? Are you **_still_** jealous of 'Officer Fuchs'?"

"After finding her in your apartment with her butt in the air, searching for where you hid her panties? Just what did you expect me to think?"

"I thought we got that straightened out months ago. She was drunk…"

"And the two of you shared a bed. If I hadn't gotten a sniff of **_your_** shorts…"

"Glad to hear – again – that you acknowledge the truth, that the two of us did **_not_** 'do the nasty'."

Judy snorted and wiggled her nose. "It was the appearance that got to me – and what with her being your trainee…"

"I have been very careful about the rules regarding fraternization, Lieutenant Fluff," Nick said, with his lips lifted just enough to show a glint of carnassials. "We've kept matters well on the 'good' side of the line. Are you **_ever_** going to stop nagging me about that one time?"

Judy took a deep breath. "Ok, I shouldn't be this way. Not right now, but those perfumes work both ways. Right now, I'm 'quite interested' in certain activities, and I'm on a bit of an emotional roller coaster. I haven't seen you all week, and I've been … drenched in this stuff."

Nick tried reaching over to rub the top of the lapine doe's head; she jerked back and knocked his paw to one side. "You rabbits … so emotional," Nick said.

"And you foxes … so obnoxious," Judy said.

Nick arched his back and cocked his head. "Woah! Let's both back down a bit, here. What can I do to make you feel better? And not piss you off?"

Judy took several deep breaths. "I'd like to shower again, tonight, and get the last traces of the pheromonal perfumes off. And I'd just as soon not shower alone – not to mention not showering in that shared shower in my apartment building. The shower in your apartment is big enough for two."

"And you want some privacy? Ok, I can text Edda now. I haven't been Edda's training officer for the last six months without getting to know her well enough – though she's still going to want to come over for Battlebots tomorrow," Nick said, and pulled out his phone.

"I trust this isn't just another hustle, Nick," Judy said.

Nick chuckled. "It's a done deal," he said, holding up the reply text from Edda Fuchs. "Relax, Carrots. I've finished my paperwork, thank goodness…"

"You sound a bit down – I should have noticed," Hopps said, sniffing and taking a more careful look at her former partner.

"It could have been better today. I was on traffic patrol with Fuchs today and … well … we had a rather … unexpected collar."

"Oh? Give, foxie! Couldn't have been that bad."

"It was, Hopps. It was. It started with a VC 23109(c) violation…"

"Exhibition of speed? What happened, did 'Flash' burn rubber in front of you? I thought that he learned his lesson when we shut down his little street racing game…"

Wilde sighed. "It started there – a little red speedster burned out of a stoplight with a squeal of tires and some burned rubber smoke. Right beside us. I hit the lights, and Fuchs got in behind the speedster – we clocked her at 55 in a 30 zone…"

"Why didn't you add the speeding ticket … or did you?"

"Couldn't clock her for long enough – the driver spotted us and slowed before we had been following and clocking long enough for it to really stand up in court. But it got worse."

"For the driver? What did he do?"

"She, Hopps, she."

"Ooooh … anyone you know?"

"Yes."

"C'mon – give, foxie! Who was it?"

"Carolson."

"As in ADA Janet Carolson?"

"Yes. We pulled her over, and I came up to the side of her car – Fuchs held back, ready to back me up. When she rolled down the driver side window, I almost gagged on the alcohol smell. There was a bottle of scotch in the passenger seat – it was only about half full. Carolson's breath reeked."

"So … misdemeanor or felony charges?"

"Carolson committed a traffic violation – the exhibition of speed. Thankfully for her, this was a first offense – Fuchs ran the check from the patrol car – and there were no injuries, and Carolson did not attempt to evade. But I suspect that she's still going to get the book thrown at her – but with only one of the three requirements met, I'm betting that this will be treated as a misdemeanor."

"Ouch! That can still mean up to a year in jail."

"Depends on what the jury says – and what the judge sentences her to."

"You expect her to be convicted?"

"If she doesn't plead out, yeah. Between the videos from the dash cam, my body cam, and the statements from our backup – McHorn and Fangmire – I'd guess it will be an open and shut case. Then it's just a matter of what the judge decides. That and what the bar disciplinary committee says about her license to practice."

"Double ouch! I don't suppose you have any idea…"

"No. I've gotten a **_bit_** of a feel for what the justice system does – thanks to your books and a bit of talking to ADAs – but I don't have a clue as to what the bar association will do to an attorney who gets arrested and convicted for DUI. But I don't expect it to be nice, whatever happens to her."

"You get her to blow into the breathalyzer?"

"She refused – so I got her to accept a field sobriety test. She failed, disastrously. And then she threw up – we had to call a 'bus. She's at Mercy General right now – alcohol poisoning. They ran blood tests – her blood alcohol level was zero point two six."

"That's over three times the legal limit!"

"You're telling me? I wrote her up for VC 23152(a), and I'm just glad that she didn't hurt anyone else – or herself, for that matter."

"So you're not likely to be getting another tennis lesson from her?"

"If she gets out of Mercy General, she's going to be going straight to jail. Forty-eight court hours before she'll be arraigned, so she's going to be 'out of action' until at least Wednesday morning. And I rather doubt that she's going to want to play tennis with me then, any more than she'll be able to this Sunday," Wilde said.

"So which is the bad part? No more lessons…"

"It's about having to arrest someone whom I'd thought of as a friend. And that's not counting the two and a half hours I had to spend filling in paperwork on the arrest. Fuchs is still writing up her report, last I checked. 'There, but for the grace of God, go I'," the tod said, shaking his head.

"You're not a criminal…"

"Any more – but I've probably consumed more alcohol in the last year than I did in the rest of my life up to then," Wilde said.

"I thought you'd promised to cut down on the cider … have you replaced it with hard liquor?" Hopps asked, a slightly worried tone in her voice.

"Yes, I've cut down the cider – and I've stayed away from the harder stuff. But my consumption is still up from, say, two or three years ago."

"Maybe we can manage a little 'stress relief' tonight – so you won't need as much alcohol this weekend."

"I just finished my paperwork, so I'll be leaving soon. My place? I'll fix dinner."

"You'd better – at least you've got something more than a dinky microwave and a mini-fridge in that rent controlled apartment of yours."

"Hey, I got **_that_** place honestly. When can I expect you?"

"Not for a while. I haven't finished **_my_** paperwork. There's more of it to deal with in Vice. Where **_I_** have been stuck these last six months. This latest 'incident' report is one of the less pleasant aspects of the assignment," Judy interrupted.

"Care to talk about it?" Nick asked.

"Not right now – maybe tonight."

"In the shower?"

Judy looked at the vulpine tod. "I make a practice of not talking when my mouth is full."

"Ah … I think I'll go see about something," Nick said, and edged out of their shared office.

Later That Evening, Nick's Apartment

There was a knock at the door. Nick set down his mug of catnip tea, and called out, "Come in, Judy, you have a set of keys, remember?"

"Are you decent?", Judy replied, her voice slightly muffled by the heavy door.

"Yes, Judy," Nick replied, sighing loud enough that he thought the lapine doe would be able to hear him, despite the sound muffling effect of the door.

"Overdone is underwhelming, fox boy," Judy said, as she strode into the apartment. "You still need to work on that, just a bit."

Nick looked up at the ceiling. "I was stressing it for conversational effect – and to get it past the door. Now sit down, relax, and dig in," he said, spreading his paws to indicate the food spread out on the coffee table. "I left the dressing for the salad on the side – and the fresh blueberries are for you as well."

"You're sure you don't want any?"

"I already had two small bowls of them – I'm blueberried out, difficult though that may be."

Judy looked the fox over carefully; leaving blueberries was not in character. "Ok, just what's the hustle **_this time_**?"

"Me? Hustle you? Now why would I do that?" Nick said.

"Because that's what you **_do,_** Nicholas Piberius Wilde! That's what you do!"

Nick shook his head, got up and wrapped the lapine doe in a firm hug. "You are so emotional tonight – so why don't you finish up your salad and then tell me what you want us to do?"

Judy filled her mouth with fennel leaves and blueberries, and made angry noises until she was able to finish eating. "You, filters out, in the shower, now!" she barked out into the tod's shirt.

"Yes, ma'am," Nick said.

#

The bottom of the tub was filled with a giant orange and white sponge. The shower spray continued to soak down the already soaked-to-the-skin tod. Nick held his head at such an angle as to simultaneously avoid the spray and keep his mouth (barely) above the level of the water in the tub. It was pleasant – and he needed to catch his breath.

It was nice just lying here under the spray, alone, after the "exercises" that the bunny had practically forced on him. Well … not exactly. Viewed honestly (he could still manage to do so without a twinge) he'd not exactly objected. At least, not at first. The bunny was far more intense than usual. _Absence making the heart grow fonder? Naah. She's just "good at multiplying"_. He managed a chuckle at that thought. _Stereotyping, Nick old boy? Bad thought. But how else to describe her tonight? Unless those pheromonal perfumes pushed her into these behaviors._ _Now there's a frightening thought._

A lapine paw pulled back the shower curtain and reached in to turn off the spray. "Get **_up_** , foxie!" Judy commanded.

"But it's so **_nice_** just lying here under the spray. And you were the one to 'ride me hard' – now are you going to 'put me away wet'?" Nick asked.

Judy scowled at the supine fox. "You're too heavy for me to lift right now – and you'll catch your death of a cold if you try to sleep like this!"

Nick sighed, and pulled himself out of the tub. "Spoilsport! And here I was getting comfortable …"

Judy shook her head and tried (vainly) to help the soggy fox out of the tub. "You must have sopped up two gallons of water in that pelt of yours!"

Nick grinned at the lapine doe as he settled down on all fours after extracting himself from the tub. He shook himself, filling the bathroom with droplets.

"Hey! Stop that!" Judy cried out. The bunny looked down at her now drenched nightclothes. "That's not funny, fox!"

Nick crawled over to the fur dryer, and set it on the "hurricane" setting before he answered. "Your fault – you insist on me getting out of the tub, you pay the price," he answered.

"After what I did…"

"Exhaust me – with uncharacteristic … ah … vigorous … what should I call it? Oh, yes, demonstrating that you 'know how to multiply'. Of course, as far as you were concerned, I was 'shooting blanks'. Different species…"

"Piberius Wilde!"

"Ok, subject closed … for now. Unless you want to be blown away…" Nick said, his paw resting lightly on the "on" button for the fur dryer fan.

#

Judy snuggled up against "her" fox in the bed, settling in with her back rubbing against his chest. "I promise not to play 'thief of blanket' tonight, if you promise to reconsider your idea."

"Which one?"

Judy elbowed Nick just under the ribs. "You **_know_** which one!"

Nick rubbed the affected region, wondering how many bruises he'd collected to date. "That hurt, you know!"

"It's the only way I can get your attention sometimes," Judy answered.

"I'll remember that the next time you get into one of those 'me so horny' moments," Nick said. "Oooh … your ears just flushed with blood. So … are you 'back to normal', or do I have to order take-out from an oyster shop?"

"I didn't hear you complaining earlier, Nick," she said.

"That was before you started going in for contortionist exercises. You weren't like this **_last_** week. Just what happened this week that was different? You still haven't told me, you know."

"Tomorrow, Nick. We'll talk about that tomorrow. Maybe I just want to make sure that you don't have anything left for … other targets," Judy said.

"Now vixens are 'other targets'?" Nick shook his head, even as he wrapped his arms around the bunny. "Fluff, you really ought to watch the jealousy factor – I haven't been with anyone else since…"

"I found Lizzie with her legs wrapped around your waist?"

"Geez, Fluff! That was months ago – and **_she_** attacked **_me_**. I was still recovering – and I couldn't do anything to stop your sister with my ribs as sore as they were. You saved me, not for the first time."

"And when I came in to find Fuchs with her nose down and butt up, searching for her panties?"

Nick took a deep breath. Some things never changed. "I told you – entirely innocent, in fact. Someone's eyes are turning green. I seem to remember that someone we know had to sniff inside my shorts to make sure that I **_hadn't_** been doing anything 'nasty' with **_any_** vixen."

"You said you wanted to have kits of your own, someday – and that would necessarily involve 'doing the nasty' with some vixen," Judy said, turning to go 'nose-to-nose' with the fox.

"Assumes facts not in evidence," Nick said.

"Adopting Carolson's phrasing?"

"There's this thing called 'artificial insemination', Judy. There are … 'other options' … to playing 'push-tail'. But can we talk about this some other time as well?"

Judy sighed. "Many times, I am sure." She kissed the fox's nose, then turned around and snuggled back into her former position – her back to his chest.


	2. Chapter 2: Confession And Relief

Chapter 2: Confession And Relief

 **Author's Note:** My apologies for not meeting my planned schedule for this chapter. But … "no battle plan survives five minutes contact with the enemy" and, in the words of Walt Kelly, "We have met the enemy, and he is us." I will _**try**_ to keep to the one chapter per week schedule, but … the "real world" has a tendency to intervene around here (here being my house).

Saturday Morning, Nick's Apartment

Nick woke shivering. He rolled over on his side and propped himself up on an elbow; Judy had played "thief of blanket", again. _This time, she's outdone herself – not only has she cocooned with "her" sheet and blanket, she's stolen mine as well. There is no justice!_ The fox sighed, rolled back the other way, and out of the bed. _At least I can get the shower first, so that little miss "hog the blankets" can't pull one of her forty-five minute long showers … just when I need to use the facilities._ As irritations go, it was minor, but in the morning, he **_needed_** to hit the washroom when he woke up. Immediately after waking up; his bladder could only hold so much liquid, after all.

#

Nick relaxed on the couch, his breakfast spread out before him on the coffee table. _A dozen turkey strips, three eggs over easy, four slices of wheat toast, blueberry jam, orange juice, milk, perfect!_ He'd even managed to get everything done while preparing a mixed fruit salad for his former partner. He grinned; Judy was **_still_** showering. Fortunately, the water in this apartment wasn't metered, or her long showers would run up his monthly utility bill insanely.

He strolled over to the washroom door, and pounded on it with his open palm. "Are you finished? Breakfast is ready and on the coffee table!" he yelled out, then put one ear up against the door.

"Not yet – start without me. I'll be out in ten," Judy replied, over the noise of the shower.

Nick chuckled and strode back to the couch. "Bunny is going aquatic," he mumbled to himself. "Definitely aquatic." While he waited on the lapine doe finishing her "soak and blow dry", Nick "inhaled" his breakfast, licking the plate and glasses when nothing more than a few molecules of jam or juice might remain.

#

Nick checked his smartphone as Judy hopped out of the washroom. "'Out in ten' seems to have become 'out in thirty'."

Judy glared at the fox. "I needed it."

"You needed to soak for an hour and a half? Are you trying to turn yourself into a mer-bunny? Hmmm…that's an interesting thought. Still mammalian?"

Judy leaned over and punched the fox just under the ribs; he doubled up and groaned theatrically. "I am very definitely still mammalian – I just wanted to wash away all the scents that have gotten into my fur. I **_needed_** the extra soak!"

Nick took a deep breath. "So … ready to talk about what's gotten you into this self-guilt trip?"

Judy sighed. "After I've eaten. Maybe."

"If you don't talk about it, Jude, I **_really_** won't know what's going on inside that fuzzy little head of yours – and I will do something to piss you off," Nick said.

Judy looked up from her salad to glare at Nick. "Is that a threat, fox boy?"

"No, nor is it a promise," Nick said, looking up at the ceiling. "It's just experience. If I don't know what's bothering you in detail, I know that I'm going to do or say **_something_** that's going to make you mad. Not me doing it with the intent of making you mad – it's just that I've not been as good at predicting what's likely to make you mad without better intelligence."

"Ah … dumb fox, sly bunny," Judy said, and then filled her mouth with fennel and chopped green bell pepper.

Nick shook his head, and waited for the bunny to finish eating.

#

"You know that I've been working Vice for the last six months," Judy said.

Nick chuckled. "I'm not blind, Carrots. I know you've not been happy there, so come over her and rest your head on 'Uncle Nick's' lap and tell me what's gotten to you. I can't necessarily fix it, but … 'a joy shared is twice a joy, a sorrow shared is half a sorrow'."

"Has Officer Fuchs been chipping away at your cynicism?"

"Changing the subject? Well … it's awfully hard to always see the sticky end of things when I'm surrounded by cheery types. And besides – there haven't been any **_real_** crimes for months. We haven't had a homicide in Foxtown in four months, and no burglaries or armed robberies. Edda and I have just been handing out traffic tickets – and even those are down, modulo Janet's DUI yesterday. It's hard to remain quite as 'dark' an outlook, when all around in what **_used_** to be a fairly high crime area, the criminals have all appeared to 'go on vacation' or 'retire'."

"Well," Judy said, "'victimless' crime hasn't gone away. And I am **_really_** tired of 'john hunting'."

"Well, maybe you could always ask chief buffalo-butt to be assigned back to 'normal' duties – ask him to grab you back from Vice."

"Could you do something?"

"Well … since Janet is sleeping on a pillow of stone right now, there isn't much that I can do in the way of influence through the DA's office."

"Hmph! It figures. Well, I've just about had about enough of Vice."

"You said last night you'd talk about this morning. So?"

Judy sighed, ears drooping and head turned down towards the floor. "I wasn't entirely honest when we made our little bet."

"Oh? You mean that you **_did_** have a boyfriend in High School or college?"

"No, not really."

"You **_hustled_** me. Officer Fluff **_hustled_** me! Damn, bunbun, you are good!" Nick couldn't help but laugh. This was "too good for words".

"No I did **_not_**. There was someone I 'had a crush on'. A big one. He was the captain of the High School soccer team – 'The Jackalopes'. He was a really handsome buck, but … I never really had the nerve to approach him."

Nick reached over and scratched the bunny's headfur. "Ok, so he wasn't a boyfriend, just someone you **_wished_** could have been your boyfriend. It makes you more of a person, though, and less of a paragon."

"He was one of the 'johns' I arrested yesterday. He wanted … he didn't even recognize me … he said he wanted a doe who would 'take it up the ass'."

"Oh."

"Yes, 'oh'. I told him that the 'going rate' for anal sex was $Z400 – and he'd have to pay for the hotel room. Just 'reading from the script'. He didn't even think to ask if I was a cop."

"But we're allowed to lie to suspects."

"Yeah – but he was dumb enough not even to try and figure it out. I've been on ZPD publicity shots…"

"Not since before I went to the Academy, Fluff. I'd guess that your jock classmate didn't connect the pictures with you – or remember the hot doe in High School."

"We went to the prepared hotel room, I took off my clothes…"

"What?"

"I took off my clothes, he handed me the money, and then the rest of the team came in to wrapstrap him and read him his rights."

"You did your job, Judy. That's what you do, and that's what you are. You're one of ZPD's 'top cops'."

"Yeah," Judy said, shaking her head. "And I had to arrest him. He broke the law, and I had to arrest him. If he had made the same request – for sex – in High School, I would have done it. But he wanted 'play for pay', and I saw to his arrest."

Nick reached over and hugged the lapine doe. "Sometimes, we have to do things that aren't as enjoyable as others. It's part of the job. As Fangs would say, 'soldier, shut up and soldier'."

"You know that neither one of us has served in the armed forces, Nick," Judy said, her face now buried in the fox's ventral fur.

"Doesn't change the validity of Fangmire's comment, though. And my own plans have been rather wrecked by this job too, Carrots. It comes with doing what we promised to do when we started wearing the uniform."

Judy looked up at the fox. "And what have you done lately that hurt so much?"

Nick took a deep breath. "I'd just about convinced Janet Carolson to act as a 'surrogate'. In the event that we married…"

"And now?"

"My guess is that she'll be sleeping on a pillow of stone for the next six months to a year – and afterwards? I rather doubt that she'll feel inclined to carry a kit of mine to term – I rather doubt that she'll be willing to even talk to me, let alone … ah … well, you know …"

"Wait – 'in the event that we married'? Were you talking about marrying me or ADA Carolson?"

"I was talking about marrying you – and I was in the process of convincing Janet to 'assist'. And I'll admit that I haven't gotten a ring, yet, but…"

Judy jumped up and wrapped her arms around the fox's neck. "You silly fox! You don't need to get me a ring…" she said.

"Well … it is traditional, after all. An engagement ring, that is."

"And you're going to afford a diamond ring on a patrolman's salary? Perhaps another stone might be in order?"

"Do you think that you would accept a star sapphire, then? I think I could manage something on that order," Nick said.

"Just so long as you acquire it honestly, Nick!"

"You wound me, Carrots. I turned over a new leaf two years ago when I left for the Academy," he said, leaning back and crossing his heart with one paw. "I am the essence of honesty and integrity, now."

"Well, it's a story, anyway," Judy said.

Saturday Evening, Nick's Apartment

"Nachos, check," Nick said as he settled down on the couch, and set the nachos down on the coffee table.

"And the beer – and cider – is here," Edda Fuchs said. "And with the Lieutenant supplying the chips, we're all ready."

"Care to make this a bit more … exciting?" Judy asked.

"How?" Edda asked.

"A little bit of wagering on the winners of the finals – and on the championship," Judy said. "It's not as though watching a bunch of geeky mechanics running their machines up against each other and scattering parts over the playing field is the most exciting sport in the world. Now if you **_really_** want excitement, there's soccer."

"And what sort of a wager would you suggest?" Edda asked.

"I have a suggestion," Nick said. "We write down our choices for the semi-finals and the finals, and also write down what we want as our 'prize' from the loser or losers. The losers are free to refuse, of course, but refusals should be for what everyone else consider to be 'good reasons'."

"Someone sounds like he's not so sure about winning," Judy opined.

"More like he's not interested in risking his brush … and he's sure that his 'bot isn't going to win at least one of the three contests. I like the idea of a wager, here…but how high should we set the bar?" Edda asked.

"Nothing that's illegal or immoral…" Nick said.

"That only leaves fattening, Nick," Edda interrupted. "So … it's only a question of what we get to eat?"

"Get out of the gutter, you're blocking my snorkel!" Nick called out, as Judy looked up at the ceiling, shook her head, and sighed.

"I think that's covered under immoral…" Judy said.

"Not if both parties agree," Edda interrupted.

"We are not going to start feeding on each other, ladies!" Nick said.

"Oh, pooh! You're just not able to handle a simple tease!" Edda said, and locked the tod in a predator-on-prey stare before she began licking her chops.

Nick backed up on the couch until he had sandwiched Judy between him and the couch armrest, his scent rapidly becoming more worried, until Edda began laughing. "Relax, Nick, I'm not that interested in crossing the line. I say, we each chip 5 Z$ into the pot for each of the two semi-final contests, and 10 Z$ for the final. We each write down our choices for winners, and whoever guesses right divides the pot for each contest."

Judy pushed Nick off her, and, reaching into her pocket, pulled out a twenty. "I'll go with the monetary bet over any other possible … wagers. Seems a little safer, don't you think, Nick?" she asked, as she poked the tod under the ribs (to get him to move away and give the lapine doe just a little bit more space).

Nick dug into his wallet and pulled out a twenty of his own and added it to Judy's on the coffee table. "Yes, I'll go with the money instead of … other things."

"Ok, you two. It's clear that neither of you can handle teasing tonight. So I'll just put my money where my mouth is," Edda said, as she pulled out four fives. "Gives some change for the inevitable pot breakup. Now, we only have to turn on the boob tube and enjoy."

 _"Jacks and Jills, Tods and Vixens, Males and Females of all mammalian species, are you ready? Because it is robot fighting time!" the announcer called out. "This first of two semi-final matches is between the Halfbull and Timebomb. Halfbull and Timebomb are both variants of the 'spinner' bot, but where Halfbull uses a horizontal drum, Timebomb uses a vertical disk spinner…"_

"I'm going with Halfbull – it's been a winner and it has a vicious drum," Edda said.

"I'll share that bet with you, Fuchs," Judy said. "Those drum 'bots are devastators, from what Nick has told me."

"I guess I'll just have to go with Timebomb, just to make it interesting," Nick said.

 _"In the red square, we have the raging bull. When it comes stampeding, you're going to do the bleeding, it's_ _ **HALFBULL!**_ _" the announcer shouted. "In the blue square, practical and tactical with more tools that a Swiss army knife, you're going to lose if you fail to defuse, the explosive_ _ **TIMEBOMB!**_ _"_

Edda laughed. "I can't believe all this macho bullshit! I love it!"

Judy chuckled. "I think the announcer eats too much white meat."

"No comments about testosterone poisoning, ladies, or I will get upset!" Nick said, unable to hold back the laughter that bubbled up from deep inside him at the females' comments.

 _"Robots, activate!" the announcer called out. And the two teams started up their 'bots, and sent them in and out of their starting battle squares. After ten or so seconds, the announcer called out, "Red team, ready!" and the red team driver hammered on the red team ready button. A handful of seconds later, he called out, "Blue team, ready!" and the blue team driver hammered his team's button down with a balled fist._

 _The lights above the battlefield flashed yellow three times in as many seconds, then flashed green. The two robots moved out of their battle squares and circled each other. Halfbull's drum spinner, at speed, sounded like a jet engine; after tens of seconds circling, Halfbull finally managed to score on the side of Timebomb, ripping off nearly half of that robot's port side armor; Timebomb spun in a tight circle and brought its vertical disk down on Halfbull's starboard side – ripping out the starboard side drive train. Another few seconds, and Timebomb circled to rip out Halfbull's port drive train. And the countdown started. "Ten … nine … eight … seven … six … five … four … three … two … one … knock out!" the referee declared._

 _"And it's Timebomb by a knockout! And Timebomb goes on to the finals!" the announcer said._

A vixen came onto the battle control area to (briefly) interview the winning driver, a slightly overweight male wolf.

 _"I had no idea we could do this," the wolf said, "the Halfbull is one of the most dangerous drumbots in the world! It is just amazing that we managed to defeat the raging bull! This win has almost struck us dumb!"_

Nick laughed. "Ok, I was the only one who selected Timebomb, so I get fifteen dollars out of the pot!"

 _"In this last battle of the semi-finals, it's Graveyard versus The Abominable Snowbot. Graveyard was first seated in this competition, and is a horizontal bar spinner robot that is favored to win – it has killed 'bots almost without number, and is definitely the apex predator of this competition, taking damage only in its last fight. The Graveyard team is switching in their heaviest blade, with the highest kinetic kill factor. The Abominable Snowbot, on the other hand, is a drum spinner, but_ _ **what**_ _a drum! Snowbot's drum spinner weighs in at seventy pounds, the heaviest of any 'bot in the competition – and Snowbot has had to sacrifice armor to keep under the three hundred pound weight limit," the announcer said. "Jacks and Jills, Tods and Vixens, Males and Females of all mammalian species, are you ready? Because it is robot fighting time!"_

 _"In the red square, it's the grim reaper returned from the grave, to put you in your place, it's_ _ **GRAVEYARD**_ _! And in the blue square, cold as the Tundratown streets where it was born, dangerous as the dregs of Foxtown, it's the_ _ **ABOMINABLE SNOWBOT**_ _, ready to make you into a snow cone of shredded tin and steel!"_

"I like Graveyard – that's a horizontal blade that's cut through lots of earlier opponents," Judy said.

"I'll go with the Tundratown 'bot – it wouldn't be right to go against species, here," Edda said.

"I'll join you on Snowbot, there, Edda – us 'dregs of Foxtown' types have to stick together," Nick said.

 _"Robots, activate!" the announcer called out. And the two teams started up their 'bots, and sent them in and out of their starting battle squares. The announcer then called out, "Red team, ready!" and the red team driver, a massive badger, hammered down the red team ready button. He called out, "Blue team, ready!" and the blue team driver, an arctic fox tod, slammed down his fist on the blue team ready button._

Graveyard roared out of its square and drew first blood on the Abominable Snowbot; in less than a dozen heartbeats, both of the Snowbot's front tires were shredded. The Snowbot's driver spun it around and brought the drum spinner **_down_** on the drive chain of Graveyard's primary weapon. Parts of Graveyard's weapon drive chain flew across the battlefield, embedding themselves in the thick Lexan protective barriers. With its front tires shredded, the Snowbot's drum spinner ground into the Battlebot battlefield, and quickly ground to a halt.

The two damaged robots fought on; both primary weapons were useless, and the fight settled down to a three minute pushing match, to catcalls from the audience.

"That's just plain **_wrong_**!" Edda said. "What a waste!"

"Time for a judges' decision. No KO, so …" Judy said.

"Who knows what will happen. The damage Graveyard did was pretty good, but so was the Snowbot's disable of Graveyard's horizontal bar spinner…" Nick said.

 _"And by unanimous decision of the Judges," the announcer called out, "the winner is …" he paused for what seemed like minutes, but was really only five seconds, "_ _ **GRAVEYARD!"**_

 **"** I win," Judy said, bouncing up and down. "This is a bit more fun than I thought it would be…"

"All the best bits from NASCAR and a demolition derby!" Edda said. "Did you see the way that drive chain embedded in the Lexan! That was **_so cool_**!"

"Well, looks like it's Judy's fifteen from this round. While we wait for the commercials to finish, anyone for another beer?" Nick asked, digging in to the cooler for another two beers.

Both females held out paws for the proffered bottles.

 _"Jacks and Jills, Tods and Vixens, Males and Females of all mammalian species, are you ready?" the announcer called out. "The final battle of this season of Battlebots is between Graveyard and Timebomb. And this is it: it's robot fighting time!"_

 _"Robots, activate!" the announcer called out. The two teams started up their robots, sending them in and out of their starting battle squares. The announcer then called out, "Red team, ready!" and the red team driver, a massive badger, hammered down the red team ready button. He called out, "Blue team, ready!" and the blue team driver, a massive brown bear, slammed down his fist on the blue team ready button._

 _"Timebomb's team has switched in their variable height blade spinner, so they are clearly going to try for graveyard's weapon drive train. Graveyard is still relying on the same heavy duty bar spinner – and it looks like this fight could well be a short one," the announcer said._

"I'm going to go with Graveyard," Judy said.

"Me too!" Edda announced.

"Well, with the two of you ladies voting for Graveyard, I'm going to have to go with Timebomb – just to make this interesting," Nick said.

 _"In the red square, running up its death toll it's the end destination for all of its opponents, it's_ _ **GRAVEYARD**_ _! And in the blue square, on the Eve of Destruction, the seconds are ticking off to the end. This bot is an expert in modern warfare – it's about to put you in the Hurt Locker, it's_ _ **TIMEBOMB**_ _!"_

 _"Robots, activate!" the announcer called out. The two teams started up their robots, Timebomb spun its height selectable spinner, running it nearly down to the battlefield floor, then up the well above the level of the low slung robot bodies. Graveyard's driver was satisfied with starting, then stopping, the horizontal blade spinner and only running the 'bot a few feet forwards then back into the red square._

 _The announcer called out, "Red team, ready!" and the badger tapped lightly on the "team ready" button. The announcer called out, "Blue team, ready," and the brown bear slammed a massive fist down on the "team ready" button for blue team._

As the light sequence started, the crowd's yell of "fight, fight, fight" could be heard clearly. As soon as the "fight" light turned green, both robots launched themselves towards the center of the battlefield. Timebomb's variable height blade passed harmlessly over Graveyard, and Graveyard's low slung blade spinner slammed into Timebomb; first one of Timebomb's wheels then another went sailing across the battlefield, ripped free by the Graveyard's massive blade spinner. At the thirty-five second mark on the battle timer, Graveyard backed away from the now stationary Timebomb. The referee counted down, and it was all over but the shouting.

 _"And the winner, by knock out, of the Battlebot Series Final, is …_ _ **GRAVEYARD!**_ _And our favorite Badger will be taking home the Giant Phillips Head Screw is … David Brokerton!" the announcer said._

And the camera pulled back, to show the badger holding the giant screw trophy high over his head, and the scene faded to a commercial.

Nick turned off the tube, sighed, and pushed the remaining pot away. "You two get to split what's left, so …"

"You're not the winner tonight, mister fox," Judy said.

Nick chuckled, and shook his head. "No, I'm the winner any night that I have the two of you ladies at my side – and we're all happy, even if I didn't win as much as I might have hoped. I could have hoped for a better final battle, though…"

"Yeah, Nick, but there's always next season. Do you think the badger will enter Graveyard again?" Edda asked.

"After getting the screw this time? I think he'll go for a second one. Gotta get 'em all," Nick said.

"Wrong game," Judy said.

"See you folks for the run, tomorrow," Edda said, as she stood up and headed for the door.

"Be seeing you," Nick said, as he waved to the departing vixen.


	3. Chapter 3: Always Something New to Learn

Chapter 3: Always Something New to Learn

There is always something new to learn and feel each Sunday

Sunday Morning, Nick's Apartment

Nick rolled over, propped himself up on one elbow, and looked at the lapine doe. Or, more accurately, he looked at the cocooned form of a lapine doe, wrapped up in two sets of top sheets and blankets. Only the tips of Judy's ears were visible, poking out of the end of the blanket bundle.

He poked at the blanket roll at a spot over where he suspected Judy's midsection lay. A barely audible mumble could be heard, muffled by the multiple layers of sheets and blankets wrapped around the bunny.

 _Ok, if she wants to sleep in this morning, I'll let her. But if I don't get out to run with Edda, I'll have both of them mad at me – Carrots for not getting the exercise I should, and Edda for leaving her to run alone_. That the vixen could outrun him was both an entertainment and an excuse for running – the South end of **_that_** Northbound vixen could be quite attractive. And if he made sure to have his nose filters in, there wouldn't be any likelihood of an untoward incident.

Sunday Morning, Downtown

"Where's the L-T?" Edda asked, as Nick strolled up to where she'd been standing outside the precinct's locker room.

"Still sleeping, when I left. I think she's taking a pass, today," Nick said.

Edda shook her head, sadly. "She'll get out of shape if she pulls back on her exercise regime," she said.

"Her choice. I expect we'll still see her at church this morning – but I'd guess she just didn't want to get up early **_this_** morning as well. Vice has really been taking it out of her – I'm guessing that she'll be begging for a change in assignment tomorrow."

"I can sympathize with the L-T, Nick. The vice jobs for females … well … to say that they're 'not nice' assignments is to seriously understate the situation," Edda said.

"I'd gathered. You got out, I suspect that with her record, Carrots will get out too – she's just been too 'duty oriented' to complain."

"Until now?" Edda asked.

"Basically. But she did stick it out for six months."

"And I bailed after less than a week."

"Demonstrating superior intelligence, in my not-so-humble-opinion, Edda."

"And you're being a flatterer, now. But you've just been talking to delay **_your_** torture for the day."

"Hey, you can't fault me for wanting to just stand around and talk to you," Nick said, reaching up to tap the nose filters with two finger-claws. "Just talk."

"Hmph!"

#

Nick followed Edda out of the police headquarters building, waving to the Sunday day shift dispatcher standing at the entry desk as he passed. _I'll just keep behind Edda when we run,_ he thought, and grinned.

"Stretch it out," Edda Fuchs barked as the HQ doors closed behind Nick and he joined her in the plaza. She began her own stretches. "Left knee lift, raise, higher, hold it! Ok, straight, lowered, down. Left knee lift, raise, higher, hold it! Straight, lowered, down." With the inner clock that spoke of years of practice, the vixen ran them both through the pre-run warming exercises. By the end, though only just so, she felt that Nick's eyes would stay open and he was **_most likely_** warmed up enough to reduce the real chance of muscle cramps. "I **_thought_** that you ran track when you were in High School, Nick," she said, as she listened to the wheezing and puffing that was already coming from the tod.

Nick straightened up and took struggled to take a breath. "I'm wearing nose filters, Edda. If I breathe through my mouth more than just a little – right now I can **_taste_** your scent in the back of my throat…" he stopped, and shrugged, leaning his head to one side and smirking.

"Oh, yeah. Well, maybe you should just take your filters out when we run," Edda said.

"Are you out of your effing mind, vixen?" Nick said, more than a slight growl in his voice.

"Actually I am **_in_** my 'effing' mind, Nick. But I take your point – you could, of course, run ahead of me and I could follow," Edda said, grinning and licking her chops.

"Should I be afraid of you now, Edda?" Nick asked, stepping back a pace.

Edda laughed. "No, you needn't worry. And I take your point about the filters. Are they ever going to make them so that they aren't near-complete blocks to any air flow?"

"If someone figured out how to make filters that blocked pheromones but didn't restrict airflow, I'd wager that they'd make a fortune," Nick said.

"Enough jaw-jacking, foxtail, and enough of a warm-up. Pace me…" Edda said, in imitation of the polar bear sow that had terrorized both of them at the Academy. She started out at a moderate 35 kilometer per hour pace. She glanced over her shoulder after a dozen strides, and verified that the tod was running as "requested" – two paces behind her and to one side.

#

Edda pulled up in front of the police headquarters at the end of their twenty-kilometer run; she was barely winded, but Nick was wheezing and puffing when he pulled up beside her. "Having a bit of a problem, Nick?"

"With … filters … yes," he managed to say. He sat down on the warm pavement, and put his muzzle between his legs.

"You should walk it off, Nick," Edda said, moving behind the tod to massage his neck and shoulders. "You are so **_tense_** , fox boy!"

"Will … be … better … next … month," he said, straining to take breaths through his nose between each word.

"C'mon – take the filters out before you strangle yourself!" Edda said, continuing her neck and shoulder massage of the tod.

Nick took a deep breath, in through the mouth and out through his nose, pulled one filter out with the claws on his right paw. After a dozen breaths, no longer struggling for air, he reseated the filter. "You can stop, Edda, I'm ok now."

"Shower, then off to Church. Meet out here in ten?" Edda asked, pulling back from the tod.

"Agreed," Nick said.

Outside Church after services

"Nick, just what is wrong with you this morning? Can you at least **_try_** to keep you paws to yourself?" Judy asked.

Nick looked skyward. "I **_was_** trying," he replied.

Edda laughed. "I think that the tod is having a little bit of a problem with the season."

"Fuchs…" Nick said, a warning tone in his voice.

"Oh? Have the two of you been up to something?" Judy asked.

Edda bounced in front of the fox and bunny couple, and turned to face them. "Look, folks, it's **_reality_** time, here. I'm in season, and it's driving poor Nick here half out of his mind. We're not doing anything wrong – no 'tail-pushing' – but he's got to exercise his 'problem' somehow."

"He's hot-and-bothered because he's been drinking in your scent, so he has to start pawing me?" Judy asked.

"Fuchs…Hopps…can we just let this matter drop?" Nick asked, both growl and whine evident.

Judy looked up at the vixen. "At least he's not grabbing at your tail, so I'm not **_that_** annoyed with him. But are you going to be like this for … how long?"

"I should be 'safe' again in about three or four weeks. Then I won't be a temptation for the tod, here."

"I wish the two of you wouldn't refer to me in the third person – I'm right here, after all!"

Judy looked up at the tod. "I don't think either of us is ignoring you – and you've certainly not been ignoring me, 'Mister tall, dark, and paws!'."

Nick took the opportunity to bow low in the direction of the lapine doe. "At least you recognize my talents, Carrots. It's a start."

Edda laughed. "I think I'll leave the two of you lovebirds alone – and Nick, I won't tease you about the run this week, nor will I insist on you joining me for my Sunday morning run next week," she said, waved, and strode off, still giggling.

"You want to go back to your apartment, or do you want to join me in mine?" Judy asked.

Nick took a deep breath. "Your apartment is too small – and mine has all the good video gear, so the choice should be obvious."

"My place, then," Judy said.

"No, mine."

"But we aren't going to be watching videos. Besides, I have the perfect compromise," Judy said.

"The compromise being?" Nick asked.

"We do it my way," Judy said, and lead the tod off towards her apartment.

Judy's Apartment, Late Sunday night

Judy propped herself up on one elbow, and looked up at the vulpine tod. "I think I like this version of you, Nick. Maybe you should run behind Officer Fuchs **_every_** Sunday this month. Maybe Saturdays as well."

"If I do, I will not live out the month," Nick managed to say.

"You are being silly, Nick. And you should improve with more exercise."

"If it doesn't kill me, that is. It gets a bit more … intense … this time of the year. Or, at least, it does when amplified by the scent of a vixen."

"Nose Viagra? I wouldn't think you were so old as to need 'artificial augmentation'."

"It's not 'artificial'. It's perfectly natural."

Judy laughed. "Ok, so it isn't artificial. And I certainly learned something today."

After a dozen heartbeats, Nick turned and looked over at the lapine doe. "Ok, give."

"That vixens do have their uses. Just so long as they don't hang around for the denouement."

Nick groaned, and lay back on the bed.


	4. Chapter 4: Red Sky At Night

**Author's Note:**

Ok, I know I'm late again. Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa. But rather than post a subpar chapter, I thought it better to delay until I had something better to post. So here it is…

Chapter 4: Red sky at Night…

Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in the morning, sailor take warning

0700 hours, Precinct 1 Bullpen

Nick glanced around the bullpen from his usual seat. _Still no rabbit, and lucky for her, no buffalobutt, yet._ A heavy lupine paw reached across the row of tables to smack him on the back; it was a light blow – or would have been, if he'd been a massive timber wolf.

"Morning, Fangs," Nick called out.

"Morning, Wilde. Where's your student?" Fangmire asked.

"She's late – so is my former partner. Before you ask, no I do not know why."

"And the Chief's late too – think there's a connection?"

"I hope not," Nick said.

0720 hours, Precinct 1 Bullpen

The collected officers were beginning to get a bit anxious; the scents filling the room made Nick's muzzle wrinkle, and he had to struggle to avoid clawing at the tabletop in front of him. He checked the time on his cell. _Twenty minutes late? What is with Carrots and Bigbrush, not to mention Buffalobutt? Not like them at all!_

The door opened just then, and Hopps bounced in, followed by Fuchs. The rabbit hopped up onto the chair she could share with Wilde; Fuchs settled on a chair two rows back. Nick turned to Hopps, a questioning expression on his muzzle.

"After briefing, Nick," Hopps said, and stood as Chief Bogo stomped into the room.

"First on the agenda – Fangmire, you're now training officer for Fuchs. You'll be on traffic patrol today downtown. Hopps and Wilde – you're partners again. Before you say anything, **_shut it, Wilde!_** " Wilde raised his arms in a "who me" expression, but was otherwise unresponsive.

"Hops and Wilde, you'll be on traffic patrol in Tundratown. Delgato…" Bogo droned on, running down through the assignments for the day.

#

Wilde looked over at the lapine doe who was sitting in the driver's seat, grinning from ear to oversized ear. "Ok, Carrots, you had your fun. Now give! How the heck did you get the assignments reworked?"

"Looking for something that you can use yourself someday?"

"Maybe – or maybe I just want to know that whatever you pulled doesn't go **_too_** far past 'proper civil procedures'."

"Oooh, foxie is going totally honest in his old age?"

"Carrots, I swore to the 'straight and narrow' when I took this job. And your reassignment has a scent that does not exactly please me," Wilde said, allowing a low growl to enter his voice.

Hopps grinned, took a pose, and said, "it's a hustle, sweetheart!"

Wilde sighed. It was clearly going to be a longer Monday than usual. "And you're not going to tell me what you pulled?"

"Magicians never tell how they pull off their tricks – you should know that. But in broad strokes? It's simple – I asked the Chief which he wanted more: me on patrol, or me raising absolute chaos in Vice," Hopps said, as he gunned the engine drove the cruiser out of the police garage in a serious "demonstration of speed".

"Whoa! Is it that all rabbits are bad drivers, or is it just you?!" Wilde yelled, when the lapine doe threw the cruiser into a four wheel drift as they reached the exit, already moving at better than forty-five miles per hour.

"Hold on to your sunglasses, foxie!" Hopps called out, as she turned the controlled drift into a high speed escape. Wilde braced himself against the dashboard, and let out a curse.

"Are you really **_trying_** to kill us both?" Wilde managed to choke out, as Hopps threw the cruiser out of the garage and slammed the accelerator to the floor, sending the overpowered car roaring down the street.

After barely making it through the streetlight in time (the rear axle cleared the "balk line" while the light was yellow, by perhaps a hundred milliseconds), Hopps pulled her foot back more than a trifle, and the cruiser slowed to a more sedate thirty-five mile per hour pace.

Wilde looked up at the roof of the cab and swore silently for a long ten count, before he tried to relax and face the day. "You are trying to either kill me, or drive me insane, Lieutenant Fluffbutt," he said.

A lapine elbow striking under the vulpine ribs was the only response.

"Are you going to explain just what in the pluperfect subjunctive has gotten into you this morning, Carrots?" Wilde asked, once he'd recovered his breath.

"I am back on the job, and I don't have to prance around and show off my 'fluffy butt' for the first time in six months. I **_love_** this job!" Hopps said, her voice rising to a yell at the end. Wilde covered his ears with both hands.

"Ears, please! You can be quite loud when you try to be – and it **_hurts_**!"

Hopps laughed. "Poor, poor foxie with his sensitive ears. I'll try not to be quite so loud for the rest of the day. Which way do you want to go to get to our patrol area?"

Wilde took a deep breath and pulled out his cell phone. "Give me a second," he said, and he stuck it out the window until the GPS app picked up the minimum three satellites. "Ok, take Acacia street East to Vornoy Plaza, then turn North – there's road work just after the plaza. Turn right at Olive, it should be clear on Olive to Heat, then jog right and turn left on to Tundra Gate. That will get us to Flurry street, and with the roadwork just North of Blizzard, that should be better. That will get us to Snowcastle, and we can start the circuit from there."

"And you think that I can keep all that straight?"

"Don't worry, just turn on to Acacia going East, and I'll tell you when and where to turn."

"Tods!"

"At least I ask for directions – even if I do it to a gadget."

"I suppose there is that."

"And we tods do have our uses."

"Not in the patrol car, foxie!"

"I was speaking of opening jars."

"And you think Francine couldn't do a better job?" Hopps asked.

"If you don't mind having the jar torn apart, no. Tods are big enough to have the requisite paw strength, but don't have so **_much_** paw strength that we'll tear the container apart. Besides, could you imagine someone like McHorn trying to open up one of those little bottles of capers that you like?"

"They're called Capparis spinosa. Or more completely, brassicales capparaceae capparis spinosa. Remember my family background, foxie," Hopps said.

"I stand – or sit, rather – corrected. Far be it from me to disagree with the botanical classification handed down by the expert. Just as a particular farm-girl should not disagree with the city-fox regarding how to get from point A to point B in this jumbled pile of concrete, steel, glass and fiber," Wilde said. "Turn left at the next stop light, Carrots."

1145 AM, Tundratown

"After over four hours patrolling Tundratown, not one single traffic violation?" Hopps asked.

"Precisely, Carrots. We've been getting a bit more in the way of 'good citizen behavior' lately," Wilde replied.

"Modulo a drunken vixen?"

"Ok, point given. But things have still been remarkably quiet of late," Wilde said.

"Calm before the storm?" Hopps asked.

"I hope not. Meantime, though, we should take what time we need for things."

"Such as?" Hopps asked, and struck a pose.

"Not here, not now. And you need to forget about the things you learned in Vice, Carrots," Wilde said. "But there are more important matters to deal with right now," he said, as he pulled out his phone, brought up and app, and began texting furiously.

"Texting? Nick … is this on-duty?"

"Ah, so suddenly on the right side? Call me in on Code 7[1]."

"While you're texting?"

"I'm getting my lunch ordered. It's through PredChat."

"PredChat? What is 'PredChat'?"

"A chat application – but it accepts monetary transfers through another application. And a lot of small cook & chef sorts have taken to using it lately. And there are a few types in Tundratown that produce really nice box lunches."

"Pred … as in Predator? A chat line for predators only?"

"You're fast on the uptake – but you've got it wrong. There's no censorship, it's just that if you don't like predators that much, you're not going to listen in that much. I've gone for the 'chicken bun' lunch that this polar bear sow makes – her apartment is just down the street from where we are now…"

"A 'chicken bun' lunch? Just what is this?"

"Shredded chicken mixed with seasonings and some sort of really crazy hot sauce, wrapped in a sweet bun made from rice flour. And I have no idea what's in the dipping sauce, but it is really good – and it's vegetarian as far as I can tell. Also some of the most wonderful pickled turnips with hummus."

"The 'hummus' is?" the rabbit asked.

"Ground up garbanzo beans, and a bunch of spices and things – all veggie, but it is **_so_** good. If Ilyana Pavlova was particularly happy this morning, she'll have mixed up some fresh minced garlic in the hummus – makes it even better."

"Minus the 'chicken bun', it sounds pretty good. Can I try some?"

"Non-meat stuff? Sure. Just a taste though – I had a light breakfast and I'm really hungry."

"After all the sitting around you've been doing?" Hopps poked the fox under the ribs with a single finger. "You'll get fat."

"I burn a lot off with just plain nervous energy, Carrots."

"In your words, 'it's a story, anyway', Nick," Hopps said, smirking.

Wilde shook his head and sighed.

1215 AM, Tundratown

"Now, was that or was that not good food?" Wilde asked.

"Ok, Nick, you were right," Hopps said, as she nibbled on one last chunk of pickled turnip. "And, without those 'buns', meat free. The buns kept the 'chicken meat' smell safely 'out of scent', but now, you have to do something about your breath."

Wilde rolled down the passenger side window. "Just a sec on that," he said, as he removed a small bottle of blue liquid.

"What **_is_** that stuff?" Hopps asked, as Wilde poured the bright blue fluid into his mouth.

After swishing the fluid around for some twenty seconds, Wilde opened the door, took two steps down the street and spit into a trash receptacle.

"I'm waiting," Hopps said, as Wilde settled into the passenger side of the cruiser.

"It's called mouthwash, Carrots," Wilde said, and breathed on Hopps' face.

"That smells … like roses. Really incongruous, coming from you. Show me the bottle, Nick." Wilde pulled the bottle back out of his pocket and tossed it to the lapine doe. "This is mouthwash for ... rabbits. Why, Nick?"

"When I eat meat, I know it's going to affect what my breath smells like. I figured that something a little bit less threatening than the smell of cooked meat – or meat and salivary juices – would be something you'd appreciate."

Hopps paused for a moment. "That was very … thoughtful … of you, Nick. Were you doing something like this for Officer Fuchs?"

"Not … exactly. We went to either a fish & chips place on Riverside Drive, or to a McDs for the fried insect bundle, or …"

Hopps shuddered. "I get the picture – but how did you know you'd be paired with me today?"

"I didn't, but when you sounded off about how much you hated Vice, I thought it would be a good idea to be prepared."

"So if you'd still been paired up with Officer Fuchs…"

"Her name, remember, is Edda. And if that had happened, I'd have just kept the mouthwash in my pocket until I needed it. The day would come someday – or so I thought. Just came today," Wilde interrupted.

"Well, partner, we need to get back to work…"

"I.H.T.D.F.P.[2]…" Wilde replied.

Hopps reached over and smacked the fox in the back of his head with an open handed slap.

End of Shift, Police Headquarters, Hopps' and Wilde's Office

"There's a new movie on at the Crown, Nick. Would you like to see it?" Judy asked, a hopeful tone in your voice. "Maybe dinner?"

"Sorry, already have plans for tonight. I have some personal business to settle."

"Oh, what's up?"

"As I said, personal business," Nick said.

"C'mon, we're partners, and you know how curious…"

"What is it about 'personal' that you don't understand, country-girl? Or don't they have this little thing called 'privacy' out in the sticks?" There was a definite growl in Nick's voice.

Judy backed up a foot. "Sorry – maybe later this week?"

Nick took a deep breath. "Ok, maybe Wednesday or Thursday". The fox tapped the "send" key, and stretched. "Done for my paperwork, Carrots. See you tomorrow."

"Yeah … tomorrow," Judy answered.

* * *

[1] Code 7 = meal break. – Author.

[2] I. H. T. D. F. P. can either be translated as "I Have This Day Found Paradise" or "I Hate This Damn F**king Place" depending upon whether or not "brass hats" are present.


	5. Chapter 5: On The Hunt

Chapter 5: On The Hunt

 _ **1800 hours, Monday, Tundratown, Icepalace Gems**_

As Nick opened the heavy outer door, a white furred stoat jill came bounding out from behind one of the long counters. Despite being nearly a foot shorter than the vulpine, she managed to look down her short muzzle at him, and sniffed.

"And just what can we do for **_you_**?" the jill sneered.

Nick put on his most innocent smile, and casually pulled out his off-duty case to display his ZPD badge.

"Officer, we haven't had any trouble here – we run a perfectly legitimate business here," the jill said, in only a slightly more civil tone.

Nick continued smiling, as he flipped the badge case shut and slipped it into his front side pocket. "I was looking for an artificial blue sapphire ring, sized to a finger this size," he said, pulling up a picture on his cell of a hand holding a ruler.

"We don't carry artificial trash here, Officer Wilde. This is a **_quality_** jewelry boutique," the jill said, still managing to look down at Nick.

"I'm sure that you carry only quality merchandise – that is precisely why I came to your establishment first. So, what would a blue sapphire ring, roughly two to two and a quarter carats, with small diamonds set in a 14kt gold ring cost – of a size for the finger I showed you."

"This is a fine jewelry boutique – we wouldn't consider selling anything so … bourgeois. I should say that nothing here would meet with the … budgetary considerations of a police officer. If you have to ask about the price, well … I think that even someone like **_you_** would know the rest. Our smallest sapphire – among the loose stones – is three point four carats. Unless you are prepared to pay the fifteen thousand dollar price of the least expensive of our rings – **_in cash_** – perhaps you should consider some other establishment? Where you might find a cubic zirconia set in plastic?"

Nick continued to smile, "my apologies, ma'am, your wares are clearly beyond my budget, and I am sorry for taking up your valuable time," he said. He turned and walked out of the store, noting that the jill walked behind him and stood just inside the door, until he was out and moving down the street.

#

 _Ok, that was a pointless exercise,_ Nick thought. _Although given their security measures – one camera, easily blinded, and an antiquated lock system to the "back room", it would doubtless be trivial to loot the place. Not to mention that there was no "airlock door" system on the entrance, and the cases were simple plate glass._ He chuckled. It was such an obviously trivial "smash and grab" target that he'd have to remember to warn the Chief about the possibility. Now that he was on the "right" side of the law, it wouldn't do not to warn "the powers that be" of a potential weakness.

 _ **1845 hours, Garret Jewelry, on the Tundratown district boundary**_

"Synthetic blue sapphire? Hmmm…" the heavyset badger stood for several seconds, clearly thinking. "You're sure that a red star sapphire wouldn't do? We have a synthetic blue with diamond chips in the setting, in a 14k gold ring – but it would be $499. The red star sapphire would be prettier, to be honest, and it would cost less. Just look," he said, drawing the taller fox over to a case at the back of the shop. "12 by 10 millimeter, Claret Red Star Sapphire – it's mounted in a rhodium ring, and the halo diamond cluster – chips, I will admit, but they're still highly reflective – would only cost you $399."

"It is nice, I will admit," Nick said, "but could I at least see your synthetic blue sapphire ring? I picked blue because I'd hope to match a certain person's eye color – at least, better than a red stone would."

"Ah, you have a specific subject. Perhaps you should consider the color of the vixen's fur? This red sapphire would go well with the typical summer pelt color," the badger said.

"Actually, the eye color that I thought I'd match is closer to violet than blue. Perhaps…" Nick began, and was then dragged to another case.

"We don't have any synthetic sapphire's that are violet in color, though some which have violet tints. These," he pointed to several rings in this new case, "are somewhat more expensive – the synthetics do cost less, I would be first to admit. This," he pointed to a white gold ring, with an untreated Ceylon purple sapphire stone with a halo of small diamonds, "is listed at $1599."

"Well … that is a bit more than I have to spend. Perhaps something a **_little_** bit less pricey?"

"Ah, well, We have this 1.8 carat Ceylon purple with rose tint in a white gold ring – it's a natural stone, and there's no halo of diamonds and our list is only $649."

"Could it be sized for this size finger?" Nick asked, showing the picture on his cell.

"That doesn't look like any vixen's finger, I've ever seen," the badger said.

"It's not – it's a rabbit's."

The badger glared up at the tod. "Get your filthy hide out of my shop, you … you … pervert!" he said, his voice rising up to a shout as he shoved the fox back towards the shop door.

#

Nick brushed his arm fur, as if he could brush off the badger's hate like so much dust. _That_ _ **really**_ _didn't go as well as expected._ He shook his head and took a deep breath, in through the nose and out through the mouth – a cleansing breath, simultaneously clearing his sinuses of the angry scents of the badger. He checked the time. _Not enough time to try another shop – looks like it will be tomorrow. Now? Back home, a cold beer, and a chicken sandwich._

0700 hours, Tuesday, Precinct 1 Bullpen

"Continuing…Hopps and Wilde, traffic patrol, Southern route 1. Delgato and Fangmire, traffic patrol, Tundratown…" Chief Bogo droned on, running through the day's assignments.

"Oh joy, we get to patrol the road to Bunnyburrow," Wilde whispered to Hopps.

The bunny elbowed him just under his rib cage in response. "Quiet," she hissed back.

0730 hours, Southern Route 1

"So, where do you want to **_try_** and hide this behemoth? Behind that stand of trees? Or the 'Welcome to Zootopia' sign?" Wilde said.

Hopps sighed. "If we hide behind that stand, our lasers have to contend with the undergrowth – and that meadow will be in the sun for the next four hours. The sign blocks the sun – and will until nearly noon. Which do **_you_** think would be better cover, Officer Wilde?"

"Ok, Country-Girl, I bow to your superior understanding of the position of the sun. Behind the sign – I don't want to roast."

Hopps giggled and manuevered the "urban assault vehicle" ZPD cruiser behind the sign, careful not to leave any obvious indication of a heavy vehicle having left the road.

"I spy with my little eye…" Nick started…

 _ **1140 hours, Southern Route 1, Behind the "Welcome to Zootopia" sign**_

"And that, your honor, is when I shot my partner…" Hopps said.

Wilde lifted his aviator sunglasses onto his forehead and turned towards the diminutive rabbit. "You wouldn't do that, Judy – you love me too much."

"Which explains why, sometimes, I get so mad at you. Nearly four hours of you trying to get me to play 'I Spy'…"

"Because we don't really have anything else to do. This is worse than any stake-out. Boring! How many cars have passed us – all carefully obeying the speed limit, mind you?"

"Three cars in four hours. We could have driven all the way to Bunnyburrow in this time."

"And then driven back after lunch. Which, if we have to do this particular patrol again, we need to consider. Fruit in the stands – except for the Farmer's Market in Foxtown on Wednesday's – is old before it gets there. Goodies in Bunnyburrow would at least be practically fresh off the bush," Wilde said.

"Don't tempt me, Wilde. But after spending six months 'peddling my fluffy tail' on the streets…"

"Hey, you weren't doing it for real, Hopps!"

"But it felt that way, sometimes."

"Well, you can 'be yourself' with me, at least. 'Course, it would still be nice if you'd not use any of 'those' perfumes," Wilde said.

"I did **_not_** use 'those' perfumes by choice, Officer Nicholas Piberius Wilde!"

"Apologies, Carrots. Just pulling on your leg a bit there…"

"Until it threatened to come off at the hip! Not nice, and not appreciated, Wilde," Hopps said.

"Mea culpa, mea maxima culpa! You **_were_** a bit 'overpowering' though, last Friday. Kind of frightening for someone so small to be so intimidating – it was anything but the sort of behavior I've come to expect of a rabbit," Wilde said.

"You're just digging yourself in deeper, Wilde! Sweet cheese and crackers! I don't know anyone who can go from lovable to irritating to down right insufferable so quickly!"

"Hence the 'that, your honor' comment?"

"That was for your four hours trying to play 'I Spy'. This for your …"

"Commenting how well that you know how to multiply?"

Hopps took a deep breath. "Are you **_trying_** to drive me to distraction?"

"No, actually."

"Good!"

"I **_am_** driving you to distraction. 'There is no try, there is only do or not do'."

Hopps looked up at the cruiser's roof, took a deep breath, and let it out with an audible "whoosh". "And just why?"

"Do you plan on holding on to the mad for the rest of shift, or can we put things aside long enough to go Code 7[1]?" Nick asked.

"Ok, I'll call it in, and you dig out whatever you snagged for yourself on the way out here," Hopps said.

Wilde pulled out a large paper bag, and laid out two salads; an avocado Caesar salad for the lapine doe, and a fruit salad for himself.

"No meat? Are you going vegetarian on me, Nick?" Hopps asked.

"Not exactly – but I didn't think that you enjoy the scent of roast bird – any variety – and I **_know_** that you can't stand the scent of my favorite insect bundle from McD's…"

"McD's is foodoid! It looks like food, but it is **_not_** food!" Hopps interrupted.

"Hence the salads, Carrots. I know you like avocados…"

"But they cost so **_much_** – and they have to be shipped in from the West Coast…"

"I can afford a once-in-a-while avocado binge for my partner," Wilde said.

"That's very nice of you, Nick. Thank you."

"You're welcome – now eat your salad and don't you **_dare_** try to steal any of my blueberries!"

"I wouldn't consider it," Hopps said, giggling as she dug into her salad.

 _ **End of shift, Tuesday, Hopps' and Wilde's office**_

"I know that I'm beginning to lose my grip when I almost **_want_** some sort of incident while on patrol – just to enliven an otherwise dull afternoon," Wilde said as he sent off his report on the shift.

"Well, there's always something possible to enlighten the evening, at least. So, what do you plan on doing tonight? Perhaps a movie, dinner, and … afters?" Hopps asked.

Wilde shook his head. "Sorry, I still have some personal business to deal with. Didn't manage to finish it last night. Maybe Friday?"

"Friday is our movie night – I was thinking that we might get together before then…just the two of us?"

Wilde sighed loudly enough for the rabbit to hear. "Again, sorry, Carrots. It just isn't going to happen, I'm afraid. But maybe we'll see about getting together before Friday. Later, fluff," he finished, stretched and with a wave to the rabbit, headed out for the night.

As he shut the door behind himself, he spotted another officer and called out to her. "Hey, Fuchs! Wait up – we need to talk…"

Hopps bit her lip. Her nose wiggling madly, and her eyes beginning to tear, she sent off her own report on the shift. Then she gathered up her things and left for the day.

 _ **1630 hours, Koslov's Palace, Tundratown**_

"So you want me to masquerade as your fiancée?" Edda asked.

"Exactly, Edda," Nick replied.

"And just **_why_** do you need a 'fake fiancée'? Couldn't you just bring your real fiancée along on whatever task you had in mind?"

"First, I want this to be a surprise. Second, if I bring Judy along, it's going to make the job much more … difficult. I tried to get a ring, based on a picture I managed to get of Judy's hand with a ruler next to it for scale."

"That must have given the jeweler fidgets – ring sizing is more than just…"

"That wasn't the problem, Edda."

"Oh? Couldn't get the image up on your phone?"

"Oh, I got the image up on my phone all right – and the first jeweler who had something in the price range I could afford took one look and screamed 'pervert', before he practically threw me out of his shop," Nick said.

"Interspecies marriages **_may_** be legal, but they're not exactly socially acceptable, Nick. Are you even sure that Hopps will say 'yes'?"

"If she doesn't **_want_** me, then I'm not the judge of mammal behaviors that I think I am. She … ah … well …" Nick's ears flushed with blood as he tried to stammer his way through an explanation.

Edda reached out and patted him on his head, and scritched between his ears. "I think I can 'bridge the gap' here, Nick. So you ran into a bit of speciesism. And you think if I masquerade as your blushing bride-to-be, there'll be less trouble? Ok, but I'm going to need a bit more than just this dinner to convince me, much though I love Koslov's chicken piroshkii."

Nick took a deep, calming, breath. "So … what will it cost me?"

"You don't blow a gasket if I 'play the part' when you play your little scam," Edda said. "And you'll have to take out those nose filters."

"Ah … I'm not going to …"

"Not asking – but since when do tods protect against their vixen friends **_this_** time of year? If, that is, they're 'serious' about things?" Edda asked, grinning and licking her chops lasciviously.

Nick slid back slightly. "Ah … you're scaring me, Edda."

The vixen laughed. "Ok, I was laying it on a bit thick – but if you want me to play the part, then you have to play your part as well. And I get to be nearby when you 'pop the question' to Hopps."

"Why?"

"Because I want to hear the bunny hit A above high C when you do. She'll go positively ballistic – assuming that she really is interested in you."

"She is, Edda. Rest assured, she is."

"Then don't worry about her answer, just worry about getting the engagement ring. Oh, and I'd suggest that I try it on – my ring finger is a bit bigger around than Hopps', but reducing the size of the ring should be easier than getting it enlarged."

"So it's agreed, you'll help me?"

Edda laughed again. "Sure, if for no other reason than I can enjoy watching my former training officer squirming and embarrassed. Now, where is that waiter?"

 _ **0700 hours, Wednesday, Precinct 1 Bullpen**_

"Hopps and Wilde – traffic patrol downtown. Fangmire and Fuchs – patrol the business district of Tundratown, some loon has been hitting the restaurants there during the lunch hour. When you're not checking out the restaurants, traffic patrol in Tundratown. Francine? You and Delgato back up Fangmire and Fuchs…" Bogo droned on, handing out the assignments for the day. Wilde tried to appear attentive, and not think about the ring box in his right pocket. The idea of a "romantic setting" for the big question kept nagging at him, and for once he was without a plan of attack.

 **[Definitely to be continued]**

* * *

[1] Code 7 is code for "temporarily off duty, on meal break". – Author.


	6. Chapter 6: Happy is the man

Chapter 6: Happy is the man

 **Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds that true friend in his wife. – Franz Schubert**

 _ **1145 hours, Wednesday, Downtown**_

"King 5, going Code 7," Wilde called in through the cruiser radio, leaned back and stretched. "Another day of boredom, punctuated only by the declaration of 'feeding frenzy' mid-shift," he said, and yawned, showing off an impressive collection of sharp teeth and a frightening long tongue.

"Woah! Out come the knives!" Hopps said, squeezing back into the driver's seat.

Wilde's jaw closed with an audible snap. He reached down into a small bag in the passenger well. "Just a quick bite for me, I have to pick up a few things."

"Personal stuff? You're only supposed to take the code 7 time for meal breaks, Nick!" Hopps said.

"Total time will be less than thirty minutes – and I'm required by the regs to take a lunch break at least that long," Wilde said, then wolfed down his sandwich in three quick bites. He then popped the soda pop-top, and poured the contents down his throat in a single long draft.

"You are going to get indigestion from that, Nick," Hopps said. "And what **_is_** that stuff, anyway?"

"Don't ask what's in the sandwich – trust me. The soda? Brown."

"Brown?"

"Caffeine free diet cola. I just call it 'Brown'. It has color, and it has a cola taste, sort of."

"Sweet Cheese and Crackers! I can't **_believe_** the stuff you push down that throat of yours. You **_really_** have to improve your diet – and you need to exercise more," Hopps said.

"I get enough exercise chasing after Edda on the weekend."

"You **_what_**?"

"Sunday runs – she's fast."

"Hmph! You should stay **_ahead_** of the vixen."

"Then I wouldn't get to watch her brush waving from side to side, Carrots."

"I can't believe you, sometimes, Nick."

"I'm just looking, Carrots. The day that I can't look at vixens – or just catch a whiff – is the day that I die. I haven't **_done_** anything with her other than run. And I've done **_that_** at the direction of a certain lagomorph, unless my memory has failed me. But I don't have much time, and I **_really_** have to get some shopping done. Stuff that I need for something I want to do tonight."

"Something with a lapine accompaniment, perhaps?" Hopps asked.

"Dream on, Officer Fluff. This is something I have to do on my own. Later!" Wilde said, as he piled out of the patrol car.

 _ **1210 hours, Wednesday, Downtown**_

Wilde dove into the passenger side seat. "Made it, with," he glanced at the time on his cell phone, "a good five minutes to spare." He set a small cool-pack into the passenger well.

"Ok, you made your point – but what did you pick up?"

"Granulated sugar, vegetable oil, eggs, all-purpose flour, cinnamon, baking soda, some kosher salt, carrots – top on – and some cream cheese, butter, nutmeg, and powdered sugar. I was planning on doing a little baking tonight…"

"You're making carrot cake?" Hopps asked.

"Yes. It's not exactly something I need help with…"

"But I enjoy baking…" Hopps began.

"But you are **_hopeless_** at anything involving home economics. Cooking, baking, anything but cleanup."

"I am **_not_** hopeless…"

'Ok, I stand corrected. You're merely terrible at cooking – remember that 'vegetable loaf' you tried to make?"

"Not fair – I'd not tried that dish before."

"Substituting one and a half cups of ground pepper for one and a half cups of green bell peppers? I rest my case. But … time to go back to work, Carrots," Wilde said, with a smirk.

"It's not my fault that I never needed to cook at home…" Hopps muttered, as she pulled out into the afternoon traffic.

 _ **End of Shift, Precinct 1, Wilde's & Hopps' office**_

"If you're going to be baking, can I at least drop by and taste the end product?" Hopps asked her vulpine partner.

"Of course. Wouldn't have it any other way. 'Course, you'll have to share," Wilde said.

Hopps cocked her head to one side. "I wouldn't hog the cake – but you shouldn't eat all that much yourself, fox-boy. You don't burn off as much as I do."

"Since I no longer have my tennis lessons, no. But I'm still running every week," he said.

Hopps sighed. "Yes, so you can view the West end of an East bound vixen. You should be exercising for exercising's sake, though."

Wilde laughed. "Here I thought you'd be happy that I was exercising. Well, Miss Green-Eyes, you can come by around 7:30 tonight – I should be finished by then, and you can have your share of carrot cake. In the meantime, I've got just a bit more to do on this report."

"Far be it from me to distract you, Nick," Hopps said, as she turned back to her own monitor and her remaining paperwork for the day.

 _ **1900 hours, Wednesday, Nick's Apartment**_

Nick opened the door and jammed in the doorstop to hold it open, then turned back to his kitchen. _I am not going to play doorman – Judy can just walk in when she gets here. I am_ _ **not**_ _going to be interrupted while I try to frost this cake!_

He slipped on the oven gloves, said a silent thanks for the inventor of Nomex, opened the oven and lifted the cake out. He drank in the scent of cinnamon and carrots. "She'll love it," he muttered to himself. "Absolutely love it."

#

The lapine doe raced up the stairs four at a time. She reached the vulpine tod's floor and paused for a dozen heartbeats, letting her breath and heartbeat come back to normal before she walked the last few steps to Nick's apartment door. The door was open; her ears snapped up and she crouched down and touched her backup weapon for comfort. "Nick?" she called out.

"In the living room – cake and drinks on the coffee table. Enter and be welcome!" Nick called back.

She stepped into the apartment, and scanned the area; Nick was sitting on the couch, visible from the entryway, arms stretched out on the back of the couch, a wide grin on his muzzle. "You shouldn't leave your door open like this – you don't know who will come in on you."

"This is a safe apartment building, Carrots – especially with me **_in_** the apartment. It's not as though I was leaving the apartment door unlocked when I'm at work. Besides, I knew you were coming, and I've gotten tired of leaping up to open the door for you – you have keys, even if you don't bother to use them."

"Giving me a set of keys was just so you'd have spares 'in case'."

"Maybe for you, fluff, but … it meant a bit more than that for me – it's called 'trust', remember? I said you could come over any time you wanted."

" ** _That_** , Foxie, was because you like how much I know about multiplying," Judy said, striking a pose.

"Ah … why don't you sit down, take a fork and have some carrot cake."

"Foxes … so emotional," Judy said, chuckling, as she sat down opposite Nick. "Trying to change the subject when it gets a little bit too close to home?"

"Ok, guilty as charged. But I've been … a little bit on edge lately, as you may – or may not – have noticed. So, let's just relax and enjoy the cake? For a few minutes at least?"

Judy laughed as she picked up her fork. "I suppose you have been a bit easier to tease, lately – but you've also been a bit touchier and more private. Turning me away two days in a row?"

Nick took a deep breath. "I had … business … to attend to."

"You're ears are flushed with blood, Nick. Whatever it was, you're a bit worried about it – or something related to this 'business', whatever it is or was. You **_can_** rely on me to help – whatever it is. If it's something from your … 'previous career' … coming back to harm you, you have friends. I can help, Fangmire can help, and any of a number of other officers would help. Even the Chief would help – given the work and the 'clean nose' you've kept **_since_** you joined the force."

"Not needed. But you should dig in to the carrot cake – I'd like someone else to appreciate it."

"Ah, so you don't want to eat it all yourself?"

"Actually, I do. But there's this value to sharing. Besides, I'd have to run even more to burn off all the sugar."

Judy laughed. "Now I **_know_** that you're off your game – otherwise you'd not be talking about exercise." The doe picked up her fork and slid it into the slice of cake that the fox had prepared for her. It went halfway down into the piece of cake, and stopped. "There's something hard in the cake. Just what have you been up to, Nick?"

"Why don't you eat around it," Nick said.

Judy cleared her throat. "Ok, you've hidden something in the cake. So, what have we here?" she asked, as she quickly excavated the small ring box. "Oh, that's nice, Nick."

"Open it."

Judy picked up the box, brushed off a few crumbs, and opened the box. In it was a ring and a small rolled strip of paper with printing on it. She set down the box, pulled out the paper and unrolled it. It read, "Carrots, would you marry me? – Nick"

The rabbit's scream hit A above high C, dutifully recorded on **_that_** carrot pen, which Nick held up and waved, briefly, before putting it into his pocket.


	7. Chapter 7: Conversations in Real-Time

**Chapter 7: Conversations in Real-Time**

 _ **Thursday Evening, Koslov's Palace**_

"If we weren't out in public, I'd ask you to play that recording," Edda said to the tod facing her across the table.

"One can have too much of a good thing, Edda," Nick said. "Besides, I rather doubt that the sensitive ears of our fellow diners would appreciate the lapine scream replay. Besides, you've already heard it what, four times now?"

"Who's counting," Edda replied. "But come to that, I could stand to hear it again, although I can wait until after dinner." Edda looked up from the menu as the polar bear waiter just … appeared … beside her. "I think I'll have the borscht, the chicken piroshkii appetizer, and the turkey strip, lettuce and tomato sandwich. To drink? Iced sweet catnip tea."

"And you, sir?" the waiter asked in a voice that sounded like a calving iceberg.

"The chicken piroshkii appetizer, the chicken Caesar salad, and a chilled glass of vodka. Not the 'neutral grain spirits' bilge, either. I want the imported Stoli – made from potatoes," Nick said, handing the menu to the waiter.

"Of course, gospodin," the waiter said, and departed.

"Have the two of you agreed on a date, yet?" Edda asked.

Nick took a deep breath and let it out with an audible "woosh" before answering. "Not yet, but we've sort of agreed on doing it sometime in February."

"So, you're going to go with Valentine's Day?"

"Oh, ye Gods and little fishes! I hope not. That would be a little bit **_too_** treacly for my taste. No, we thought we'd need a bit of time to get her family – mostly her father – to 'get used to the idea'. He doesn't exactly like me."

"Oh? I'd have thought you'd have had no trouble at all winning the old man over," Edda said, grinning evilly.

Nick rolled his eyes and looked up at the ceiling. "If you're trying to take lessons from me, take the lesson of a reformed fox not the … ah … perhaps less than reputable sort that I was before I turned to a life on the 'thin blue line'," Nick said, managing to look both innocent and somewhat guilty at the same time.

Edda laughed. "Ok, I won't try to tarnish your newly earned shine, Nick. But you do have to admit to being more than just a little bit persuasive. How can it be so hard to convince one old carrot farming rabbit to accept a bit of change?"

"Now I **_know_** you're pulling my tail, Edda. You came up from an agriculturalist background – what is it that farmers dislike the most?"

"Now that's not playing fair, Nick! Besides, you **_know_** that I'm the 'black sheep' in my family – coming to the big city, and mixing with all these 'disreputable types', even if the only mixing I do with such is to put them in jail! My parents wanted me to 'settle down, find a nice tod, preferably one of the Mueller brothers – their farm was right next to ours, and there was a fair number of unworked acres 'just perfect for a nice home for the two of you' – and start raising grandchildren for them to spoil," she began a shake that started at her head and worked down the length of her body, ending with twitches of her thick brush.

"Ohhhkaaay that obviously hit a hot button there. My observation?"

It was Edda's turn to take a deep breath. "If we can stay off my past – and I didn't mean…"

"No problem," Nick interrupted. "Farmers don't like change – because change usually means trouble. How does it go? One year in three the crops are good, one year in three they're marginal and just break even, and one year in three they're terrible?"

"It's not **_quite_** that bad, Nick. And a wise agriculturalist has multiple crops – monoculture crops are a disaster waiting to happen. My family raised chickens and we fished for our own food, along with raising fruit trees and bushes for cash. Apples, peaches, nuts – and we preserved the fruit that we couldn't sell or eat immediately. Nothing went to waste. We had a saying, "use it up, wear it out, make it do or do without'. Gramps said that it was something they learned during the War years. And then there was the corn…"

"Corn? For what – popcorn?"

"No, silly," Edda said. "What we couldn't sell, well, we turned into alcohol."

"Moonshine? I **_love_** it! So you're from a family of moonshiners?"

"Well, not like some of the big booze families – we produced some for … ah … 'medicinal purposes'. And to give the family yet another cash crop." Edda did another full body shake. "But you're really good at changing the subject – why didn't the two of you pick an earlier date?"

"December and January, that's why," Nick said.

"Ah, what's that got…" she stopped, as the figurative light lit up. "Fox mating season? I'd think…"

"If you did, you'd realize why Judy **_wouldn't_** want us to get married then. And setting things for February gives us more time to work on her father."

"It should also give me time to arrange one heck of a bachelorette party. Who is going to arrange your bachelor party? And who were you thinking of for 'best mammal'?"

"I was thinking about Fangmire. He's fairly open minded about such things, and he's enough of an 'old hand' to know how to keep things at least vaguely under control – oh, you meant who was I thinking of for 'best mammal'? That would be one of my old friends – a guy named Finnick. He's a fennec fox."

"Why not have this Finnick arrange your bachelor party – I thought that was one of the duties of the 'best mammal'?"

Nick chuckled. "If I gave Finnick the job, there'd be a vixen popping out of a cake, and he'd try to get me drunk and laid – probably in that order. I like Finnick. He's been my best friend for years. But he is a wild character."

"Have you thought of reforming this 'wild character'? If you found the 'light side' so much better for you, wouldn't…"

"Please!" Nick held up a protesting paw. "I like Finnick the way he is – and I'd rather have the party set up by Fangs, so that I don't end up with the shortest engagement on record. And Finnick is in his forties, and he's not about to change his way of doing things any time soon."

 _ **Friday Evening, Koslov's Palace**_

"So, just what were you up to last night? I thought that we might have a little 'private time' after your little surprise," Judy said.

"I was paying off a debt – I promised Fuchs a dinner if she would 'play the part' of my fiancée at the jewelers. So I took her here."

"You could have taken me to the jewelers, Nick. I promise I would have still screamed when you offered the ring."

"The problem was in our respective species, Judy. I tried getting a ring with just a picture of your paw…"

"So **_that's_** why you took that screwball picture…"

"Yes, with the ruler for size. But when I showed it to the first jeweler, he called me a pervert and threw me out of his shop. I got the same response from two other jewelers – so I decided on a bit of subterfuge," Nick said.

Judy giggled. "You mean you decided on a new hustle. Obviously, it went as expected – I'll need to get the ring resized, but that's not a real problem. Fuchs' fingers are a bit thicker than mine."

"Glad to hear that – I had to go on that assumption. If I'd brought you with me to get just the right size …"

"They would have thrown us both out? I don't understand some mammals, sometimes. What's wrong with a fox and a bunny getting together?"

"Well…" Nick paused, "I've been called 'species-traitor' for less than what we're proposing to do. And your father won't exactly be happy about this."

"Are **_you_** really ok with this, Nick? I've been fairly clear about my feelings for quite a few months, now."

"I gave you a ring, as a pledge and a promise of another ring – and my commitment to you for the rest of our lives. 'to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part'," Nick said.

"You've memorized the vows?"

Nick shrugged. "It seemed the right thing to do – though I'll admit I did it a long time ago."

"So … I wasn't the first love of your life?"

Nick sighed. "I told you the four vixens I loved – and it was the first that I really seriously considered proposing to."

"The one who was murdered…"

"The snuff-film case, yes. But I got over her a long time ago – her murder, well, that was rough because **_anyone's_** murder is rough on me."

"Oh? Here I thought you were the rough, tough, independent fox before…"

"I said **_never let them see when they get to you_** , that doesn't mean that things don't – and didn't – get to me from time to time. I was never involved in really rough stuff in my 'previous career'. The most I ever got in to were a few short-cons…"

"Except tax evasion?"

"Ahem! Tax avoidance – and I cleared all that up with the Feds some time back. Filed amended tax forms, paid all the taxes plus penalties and interest. And I'm saving enough that I think that we could manage quite comfortably … with our combined salaries."

"And your rent controlled apartment? I still can't quite believe that you managed to get a bedroom, bathroom, kitchen and living room apartment in this city for only one hundred eighty a month!"

Nick grinned. "A little luck never hurts, I'll admit. That, and inheriting it from the previous tenant – not that I expected it. It certainly beats living under a bridge, though."

"Speaking of your apartment – do you think we could watch something on that big screen television of yours after dinner?"

"I don't see why not," Nick answered, just as the waiter appeared at his side. He quickly looked down at the menu, "I'll have the Caesar salad, a large bowl of borscht with sour cream, the steamed asparagus, and a large mug of catnip tea. Carrots? What do you want?"

Judy giggled. "I'll have the stuffed mushroom appetizer, a classic Caesar salad, the feta-and-rice stuffed bell peppers, and a small bowl of borscht – without the sour cream, thank you. I'll have a mug of the Jamaica Blue Mountain coffee to drink."

Nick gulped. He'd said it was his treat, but he checked his menu for the price. _Z$15.60 for one twelve ounce mug. Ye Gods and Little Fishes!_ He kept his expression carefully under control. This was going to be a bit more expensive a "treat" than he'd first thought, when he'd invited Carrots out as an "apology dinner" (yeah, apology for taking out the vixen the night before!).

The waiter took their menus and disappeared silently.

Judy grinned at Nick. "It will be worth it, Nick. And I'll take care of the cost of the coffee – it wouldn't be fair to stick you with a drink that costs as much as the rest of my meal – at least, before we hit Berry-Berry," she said.

"You're going to have room for dessert after that size meal?"

"We'll walk instead of taking the tram."

"Ah … you know that we're something like six or seven **_miles_** from your apartment?"

"It will help us both work up an appetite. Besides, you look like you could use a bit more exercise lately – since you're not playing tennis anymore."

Nick sighed. "Yeah, a little hard to play when my instructor is sleeping on a pillow of stone."

"You miss her?"

"I miss anyone if I like them, and find that I can't see them for reasons beyond my control – but which are directly my fault."

"Sorry that you arrested her?"

"Yes – but I'd do it again. There should be the same law for all mammals."

"Rich and poor, powerful and powerless?"

"Exactly – my way of trying to 'make the world a better place'."

Judy laughed aloud. "You've come an incredibly long way from where you were when I met you, Nick."

"Amen to that…"

 _ **Friday Evening, sometime later, Berry-Berry**_

"I hope you're enjoying that … thing … Judy," Nick said, looking over at the mixture of blueberries, strawberries, pineapple and three scoops of ice cream (chocolate, vanilla, and cherry) nearly blocking out his view of the bunny.

Judy looked up, pointed to her stuffed cheeks and nodded, while trying to swallow the latest scoop of fruit and ice cream without suffering from severe "brain freeze".

Nick sipped at his root beer float. "I don't know where you manage to fit it all in. Do you have hollow legs? You don't seem to gain an ounce despite all this conspicuous consumption."

Finally managing to finish her latest mouthful, Judy sat up in the chair and propped herself up to look at the fox over her tower of fruit and ice cream. "I have to build up my energy for later tonight," she said, and licked a bit of stray ice cream off her nose.

"Oh? I thought we'd just stay in and watch a movie. How much energy do you need for that?" Nick asked.

"Depends on what movie," Judy said, and grinning, stuffed another mix of ice cream and fruit into her mouth until her cheeks began to pouch out.

Nick shook his head. _My partner is becoming a chipmunk. Better not say it, though – at least until she finishes with_ _ **this**_ _mouthful_.

"I have a couple that I **_think_** you'll like – and they might even give you some ideas," Judy said, as she finished off the latest load.

"So, what did you have in mind? You're the one to choose tonight, so unless you're interested in something in my – admittedly small – collection…"

"I'll let you know when we're in your apartment, not a moment before," Judy said, and grinned.

 _ **Late Friday evening, Nick Wilde's apartment**_

Nick settled into the couch and stretched out his arms across the back. "Ok, what do you have on the list for tonight, Carrots?"

"A double header, actually. **_Farmer's Daughters: the Movie_** , and **_Vixens_**. I thought we'd play **_Farmer's Daughters_** first, then **_Vixens_** ," Judy replied.

"Two movies? That ought to put us into true late night."

Judy grinned. "Part of the idea," she said, as she popped one of the DVDs out of the box.

"Ah … 'blue band' DVDs?" Nick said, as he picked up the box for **_Farmer's Daughters_**. "This isn't particularly informative. He opened the box and looked the liner notes over carefully. "Copyright information, the usual MBI notice regarding copyright infringement, and that's it." He looked up as the DVD began running. "Ok, I suppose that I should have known," he said, as the theme music from **_Green Acres_** filled the room, and the scene opened up on an idyllic appearing farm scene – a carrot farm. "Time for a quick check of the Internet movie database…"

Judy snuggled up against the fox, and tried to stop his cell phone based search.

"Oh… ' _A bunny family keeps the bank at bay and supplements their income by taking in boarders (using their thirteen nubile daughters)_ '. You brought a **_porn flick_**?"

"Well…"

A few seconds more, and Nick brought up a description of the "second feature". "And **_Vixens_** is, and I quote, ' _Four vixens leave the city for a relaxing weekend in the mountains, and they come across two tods in a natural setting in the middle of December_ ' – the mating season? They're both rated X, Fluff!"

"I thought that they'd 'put you in the mood'. Besides, you might get some ideas…"

Nick looked at the bunny, his eyes wide. "Now I know what you meant about exercise…"


	8. Chapter 8: Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of Thi

Chapter 8: Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)

 _Sweet dreams are made of this_

 _Who am I to disagree?_

 _I travel the world_

 _And the seven seas,_

 _Everybody's looking for something._

 _Some of them want to use you_

 _Some of them want to get used by you_

 _Some of them want to abuse you_

 _Some of them want to be abused._

 ** _Sweet Dreams (Are Made of This), Eurythmics_**

 ** _Saturday morning, Nick's Apartment_**

Nick looked over at the lapine doe in her two sets of sheets and blankets cocoon. He shook his head, and then rolled off the bed onto the floor. His back ached, his mouth tasted like a feline's sandbox smelled, and his head throbbed in time with his heartbeats. His muzzle wrinkled into a snarl as he foolishly breathed in through his nose; the smells in the bedroom were truly horrendous. _I am going to have to fumigate after this latest little escapade_ , he thought. _If I don't air this place out before Edda comes over tonight to watch to 'bots fight, I'm never going to live it down._

He crawled over to the bathroom. _First things first, though. Clean myself before I attempt to clean the apartment_. Though he'd likely have to shower a second time after cleaning. He also concluded that he'd need to wash the sheets and blankets – once he'd recovered them from "Little Miss Thief of Blanket".

Nick continued his crawl into the shower; he propped himself up against the wall opposite the shower head and managed to turn the water on with his feet. The water was too cold, at first, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that the spray was strong enough to soak his fur down to the skin and wake him up. _I need to get more sleep._

He dragged himself upright, then leaned forward and rested his forehead against the shower stall wall just below the shower head. The spray hit his back and formed a waterfall down either side of his brush. He stood that way for what seemed only like a few seconds, but must have been another ten minutes, before a cold breeze on his back brought the fox back to reality.

"I spy, with my little eye, something that begins with the letter 'b'," Judy said. She picked up the body fur shampoo bottle and began applying a liberal dose to the vulpine's back.

His forehead still resting against the shower wall, Nick replied, "that's easy, Carrots – my brush."

"Close, foxie," Judy said. "But not … quite," as she reached under the fox's brush and applied more shampoo.

"That's a sensitive spot, Carrots, and it starts with 'g', not 'b'," Nick said.

"Oh, the 'g' word covers more than just what the 'b' word describes, foxie," Judy said, as she applied shampoo to the specified region.

"What you're working on now is something beginning with 's', and if you keep that up, you're going to 'tickle it back'," Nick managed to say, as his breath came faster and shorter.

"I'm so glad that you have a bone in there…" Judy said.

Nick shook his head, there were times when it was just better to "relax and enjoy it", as the lapine doe proceeded to assert her own territorial imperative.

 _ **Saturday Afternoon, Nick's Apartment**_

Nick crawled over to and onto the living room couch. He rolled onto his back, curled his brush up over his stomach, and then rolled back onto his stomach. He pulled one of the couch pillows over his head, closed his eyes, and tried to recapture lost sleep. It worked … for all of roughly fifteen minutes.

Something poked him gently in the ribs, once. After a pause of perhaps ten or fifteen seconds, there was another poke. Then something wet traced the rim of his right ear; he flicked the offended ear, as if to drive off a fly.

"Nick, I think you're just faking right now," Judy whispered into his ear. Nick turned on his side, presenting his back to the lapine doe. "Oh, does foxie want me to play with **_this_** part of him?" she asked, and began massaging his bare back.

"Please, let me rest, Fluff?" Nick whined.

"Oh, I don't see why. I've been on top doing most of the work all morning."

"Have mercy, Fluff. I need **_some_** sleep. You kept me up nearly all night – and then you wouldn't even leave me alone in the shower…"

"Oh, pooh! Poor little foxie has no stamina. Now do you see why it would be a good idea to exercise and improve your wind? Maybe we should make sure that you run **_both_** weekend days?"

Nick groaned. _If I survive this weekend, I promise that I will change the lock on my door_ , he thought, then his groan turned into a moan as the lapine doe's paws "wandered south" and into his shorts.

 _ **Saturday evening, Koslov's Palace**_

Nick looked down at his salmon almandine. The scent of the properly prepared fish was exquisite, and even managed to overpower the scent boiling off the lapine doe sitting opposite him. _I am not going to let this "minor" distraction annoy me – I have the fish protein that I need to keep up with Carrots, and I have the temporary reprieve from her … "special attentions"._

"Borscht with sour cream?" he said, looking over at his partner's meal. "Hardly seems enough to provide the … ah … energy … that you've used today."

"I just have a more efficient metabolism – able to process plant matter and draw sustenance while the predator – you – needs to eat things that more closely match what he is. Meat."

"And muscle, mind you…" Nick said as Judy reached out with one foot and tried petting the fox in a sensitive area; he jerked back and blocked access with a twist of his body and a raised leg. "I think that we should restrict some activities to the apartment, Carrots. Please?"

"Oh, pooh! You're just complaining because you're out of shape," Judy said.

"Eat your beet soup, Fluff, and I'll eat my salmon … and we'll see about 'shape'. Later."

"Always 'later'. 'Jam yesterday and jam tomorrow, never jam today," Judy said, before shifting her attention to the soup.

Nick sighed, and focused his own attention on the salmon. It was safer approach to matters, given Carrots' current mood.

 _ **Later that Evening, Nick's Apartment**_

"Now don't start anything that's going to take a significant amount of time, Carrots," Nick said. "Edda's likely going to show up in another hour and ten minutes for 'Battlebots'. And I'd like to have some time to … ah … 'air out' … the place, if you…"

"You said that we'd see about 'shape' later, well, now is 'later'. And I understand your desire **_not_** to have Ms. Fuchs 'confused by unusual scents'," Judy said.

"It's just not polite, Carrots. I'd think that you'd understand that a bit better…"

"Than the cynical city-fox? Perhaps. But I don't mind 'marking territory' so that a certain vixen won't be confused about who belongs to whom," the lapine doe said, as she moved closer to the fox on the couch, playing with the vulpine's belt buckle.

"Ahem. Carrots, just what do you have in mind? Remembering that Edda's going to be here for 'Battlebots' – in," he took out his smartphone and glanced at the time, "an hour and seven minutes…"

"So, we don't have time for 'certain activities'…"

"Not unless you want to have Edda come in on us while we're … ah … 'glued together'. You don't have the locking muscles 'down there' like vixens do, but still…"

Jude looked up at the fox. "So, I'll just have to satisfy you by other means," she said, as he finished unbuckling the vulpine's belt, and undoing his pants. "Oh, goodie, you're already…"

"I'm quite well aware…" Nick began to say, and then lost his voice as the lapine doe kissed 'a certain part of his anatomy' and then slid said body part into her mouth and down her throat…

 _ **Later still, Nick's apartment**_

"The L-T didn't **_have_** to scoot out of here like that," Edda said, settling down in the couch next to Nick.

"She just doesn't care for 'Battlebots' that much. And…" Nick began.

"She doesn't care to watch me next to you?" Edda interrupted. "It's not as though I was trying to poach on her 'territory'."

"It's not **_like_** that, Edda."

"Oh?" The vixen leaned back, closed her eyes, and sniffed the air. "You need to air the apartment out for longer if the two of you are going to 'play around'." She sat up again, looked over at the tod, and grinned. "The nose knows," she said, tapping the side of her muzzle.

Nick looked up at the ceiling and sighed. "It's not my fault, Edda. And yes, I know the apartment fair reeks of 'bunny'…"

"Not to mention having a tod in it who definitely looks, and smells, as though he was 'ridden hard and put away wet'."

Nick looked over at the vixen, sighed again. "We do what we do out of love, Edda. You do understand 'love' don't you?"

"Maybe someday I will," Edda said, shaking her head. "Right now it looks like she's just using you."

"It's not like that, Edda. But you came over here for 'Battlebots', and unless you want to talk about irrelevancies, we need to turn on the boob tube and settle in for another two hours of mechanical mayhem."

"Ok, subject closed – for now," Edda said, popped the top off her bottle of cider with a practiced flick of her claws, and handed the cable remote over to the tod.

"Hey," he said, as the display came on showing this night's combats, "they've got the 'rotary eviscerator' on again!"

"Thank goodness for small favors, Nick?"

"Amen…"

#

Nick looked over at the "dead soldiers" in front of Edda, then over at his own "dead soldiers". "You're definitely ahead of me – and I'm way too far gone to try and catch up."

Edda giggled. "You're only six behind," she said.

"It's three – I think you're seeing double. You're too drunk to walk home, and I'm too drunk to walk you home. The six pack that I've consumed is two past my safe limit," the tod said.

The vixen grinned, licked her chops, and looked the tod over carefully. "Then I'll just have to sleep it off here."

"On the couch," Nick said, "on the couch."

"You're just no fun at all," she said, as she proceeded to stretch out and rest her head on the tod's lap.

"Even with the bundling board…"

"You mean the broom?"

"Even with **_a_** bundling board, I don't think I need a repeat of last time."

"Hey, it isn't **_my_** fault that you moved my panties…"

"I put them with your other clothes in a neat pile. It was just rotten luck that Judy decided to drop by just as you were looking for them."

Edda giggled. "It was funny, even if she didn't understand. And I am sorry about causing you grief that time. If the L-T understood foxes just a bit better, she'd have realized that it wasn't something she **_really_** had to worry about."

"Whereas you resting your head in my lap while we're getting in to mating season…"

"All right," the vixen said, sitting up and retreating to the far side of the couch. "I won't stress your poor self-restraint. And I'll wait to undress until you've left the room for your bed. But if you want to come back for a game of push-tail…"

Nick shook his head, and headed off for his bedroom. He turned at the door. "Edda, I think we need a door between us. And, tempted though I might be by that thick brush of yours..."

"You were the one who nicknamed me 'Miss Bigbrush', Nick," Edda interrupted.

"As I was saying, tempted though I might be, I am going to pass on this one," Nick said.

"Oh, you're going to pass on this one. Perhaps the next one?"

Nick shook himself. "Please don't tempt me, vixen," he said, as he slipped into his bedroom and shut the door behind himself. He leaned his back against the wall for several seconds, before taking a chair and wedging it under the door knob.

He shook himself a second time, with a shake that started at his head and swept down his body to the tip of his tail. He took a deep breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth with an audible "whoosh". He pulled his smart phone out and tapped a small rabbit icon.

"Come on, Carrots, pick up," he whispered. When the incantation failed the first time, and the phone continued to ring, he whispered it again. And again.

"Whuz?" a lapine voice mumbled through the connection, finally.

"Thank goodness! Carrots, I know it's late…"

"Sweet cheese and crackers, do you have any idea how late it is? Nicholas Piberius, it is after midnight, and I've been asleep for over two hours!"

"But you're awake now – and I need your help on a 'small matter'."

"What sort of trouble have you gotten yourself into, now?" Judy said, the sleepy sound of her voice finally changing into the sound of a thoroughly annoyed rabbit.

"As in 'this time'? Maybe it's just a repetition of earlier problems. Think, 'brushes'."

"Could you please be a little more obscure, Nicholas Piberius? I'm still half-asleep, and I just might have some trouble understanding what little problem a…hold on," Judy stopped in mid-rant. The sound of her panting could be heard for several seconds, then her face appeared on screen, her nose twitching. "Turn on video from your side, Nicholas."

"Are you sure you want to see me right now?"

"Just do it!"

"Ok, wait a second," Nick said, and turned on the phone's camera. "I'm…"

"Drunk. Unless you've gotten maced, and your eyes are bloodshot in consequence. Are you alone right now?"

"Depends upon your value of 'alone'. Which is really the problem, when you get right down to it," Nick said.

"You're in your bedroom – or you're in **_someone's_** bedroom. Is there someone else with you?" Judy asked, her voice growing harsher with each word.

"Not in the bedroom – and it's **_my_** bedroom," Nick said, turning the phone around and panning around the room. "See – my bed, my little desk, the chest of drawers by the far wall…"

"The pile of dirty clothes at the foot of the bed," Judy interrupted. "And the bed is empty. Ok, what trouble have you gotten yourself in that needs a lapine touch to get you out of?"

"Not just any lapine touch, Judy. Yours."

"When you start using my given name, I know you're worried. But I can't help you unless I know what you've gotten yourself into this time. And why is the desk chair jammed under to door knob?" Judy asked.

"To keep the door shut – I don't have a lock on it."

"I'm waiting, Nicholas," Judy said.

Nick took another deep breath, and let it out. "There's a rather drunk – and horny – vixen on the other side of the door. I need to come over here, take her home, and see to it that she gets to bed."

"In her own bed?" Judy asked. She couldn't help giggling.

"Ok, maybe I deserved that. But I really **_need_** you to get her home. We had a few too many hard ciders while watching 'Battlebots', and…"

"You're now hiding in your bedroom? Terrified by a vixen?"

"Terrified by what I might do if I don't watch myself. When a vixen starts talking about playing 'push-tail', I know what's on **_her_** mind – and…"

"You are wearing the nose filters you told me about, aren't you?"

"Yes, but … they're not 100% effective. I don't really trust myself with Edda right now – I need your help to get myself out of this mess. I think that Edda will be less dangerous when she gets over her drunk, but … with her inhibitions reduced…"

"She made a pass at you?" Judy asked.

"Not blatantly – she's able to maintain what one might call 'plausible deniability' if I can get through tonight. Which is why I need you – and you have keys, so I won't have to leave the bedroom to buzz you in, or let you in the apartment."

"You'll owe me – but next week, I think I'm going to have to sit through 'Battlebots', if for no other reason that I can serve as 'designated driver' when a certain tod gets himself too drunk to act responsibly," Judy said.

"Whatever you want," Nick said. "Just get over here, soon, please?"

"I'll be there in half an hour. But after I've taken 'little Miss Bigbrush' home, I'm going to come back to your apartment," Judy said.

"Thank you, oh beautiful bunny," Nick said.


	9. Chapter 9: A Restful Sunday

Chapter 9: A Restful Sunday

 _ **Sunday afternoon, in front of Precinct 1 Station**_

Nick shook, a relaxing shake that started at his head and worked its way down his body until all that was left was a twitch at the end of his brush. He took a deep calming breath, in through his nose and out through his mouth. It was a good time; he was (relatively speaking) alone, he'd finished his stretches and for once this month he didn't need to worry about running across a vixen's scent and getting scent drunk on his run. Or in ending his run oxygen starved from having to breathe to flow limiting nose filters. Life was good – Judy had even let him sleep in, and he'd woken up only well after "Officer Toot-toot" had left for church.

 _ **A Few Minutes Later, On The Run**_

He laughed, and set off at a slow jogging pace of ten miles per hour towards the head of the jogging path around the nearby park.

 _If there was anything I could put at the top of the list that I've gained of late_ , Nick thought as he ran along the jogging path, _is that I really enjoy running_. _I used to live for running, back when I ran track in High School, but somehow I got away from the simple joy over the years. Maybe the continued "slings and arrows" of being a pred – and a fox at that – in a prey dominated city stole this bit of happiness_.

He checked his pulse as he stepped up his pace to twenty miles per hour. _Cardio feels enliven, not overstressed – I've got plenty of oomph left. Pulse is up a bit, but nowhere near the "red line". Maybe even better than when I ran track … 'lo these seventeen years ago. Breathing is easy – and without those damned filters, I'm not choking on the limited flow. No vixens around, so … no worry about going scent drunk_.

Nick leaned into a curve in the trail and used the positive side of the camber as he raced around a small lake in the park. _Silence – it's wonderful. No cars, no trams, and the lack of any dust-trail says that I've got the trail all to myself. No worries about anaerobic/aerobic changeover, not the slightest hint of "lockup" – just the pure endorphin rush of the chase – well, of the run, anyway. He shook his head from side to side as he swung right around the next curve, away from the dense, canyon-like walls of buildings of downtown Zootopia. The air smells better here in the park,_ he thought. _Maybe not as good as it did in Bunnyburrow – the one bright element of that otherwise horrendously unpleasant trip – but it's still better than Downtown_. Or, he recognized, in much of Foxtown, with the scents of stale urine and worse that often came from dark alleys and walkways in that "less than perfectly well maintained" unofficial district.

 _A problem with having a keen sense of smell,_ the vulpine tod thought, as he continued racing through the park. _Maybe that's why some mammals smoke tobacco – despite the known health problems – killing their scenting ability, so that they can't smell the stench they and others create with their smoking, or the stench of too many bodies – of mammals that seem to have never heard of proper personal hygiene – or the sour-sweet smell of illness everywhere in this mammal-heap (except in the parks and around the small lakes or the river)._

Ahead, he could see a widening in the trail. _A meadow? I must have taken a turn the "wrong" way a while back. I don't think I've been this way before!_ Nick shook his head from side to side and frowned, but continued his run. He didn't like it when his "map" of the City was found to be incomplete or wrong. _I know everyone in this town – and I_ _ **know**_ _the City! They must have added to the jogging path – that's it!_ The path swung away from the small lake and up a slight incline – and after another turn, ran between two small meadows. _Makes sense_ , he thought, _the path was along what once was the streambed for a small stream._

He could afford the breath to laugh, briefly, and decided that it was time to go "full out" and he increased his speed to a full thirty miles per hour.

#

Half an hour later, at the end of the twelve mile long jogging trail, Nick settled down to a stiff walk from his earlier bat-out-of-hell thirty mile per hour pace. _Walk it off, cool down, and relax._ The trail ended up by another of the small lakes scattered around this section of the City, and after a few minutes cool down, the fox found a shaded spot near the water and settled down to rest – his legs, his body, and his eyes.

 _ **Mid Afternoon**_

It had seemed only like a few minutes, but when he checked his smartphone for the time, Nick found that he'd drifted off to sleep for an hour and a half. He checked his wallet, then his belt pouch; the few possessions he'd brought with him on his run were still present, undisturbed. He took a deep breath, both through nose and mouth. _No sign of the scent of a vixen – so I lucked out completely,_ he thought, as he dug out another pair of nose filters, stripped off the Mylar covers, and inserted them. _Safe. Uncomfortable, perhaps. But safe. Now what was that phrase that Bigbrush used? "Like armor that scalds with safety"? Something like that. I'll have to check it on the Net … later. And … back into the battle, for a few minutes at least._

 _ **The Mystic Spring Oasis**_

Nick strode in through the entrance and turned to face Yax, who was standing behind the counter, chanting. "Yax, my man, how goes it?"

"Oooooooooohmmmmmmmm, Oooooooooohmmmmmmmm…"

Nick chuckled and moved closer, pulling out a twenty and a ten. "I have something that you might like, Yax… hello?"

"Oooooooooohmmmmmmmm, Oooooooooohmmmmmmmm…"

He waved the two bills directly under the yak's muzzle, and chanted a counterpoint to the hippie yak's chant, "moneyyyyyyyy, monnnnneeeeyyyyy, monnnneeeeeeeyyyyy, hello, Yax!"

"You know, I want to hit the pause button again…" Yax began.

"A month's membership was, if I recall correctly, thirty dollars. So, how about enrolling one Nicholas Piberius Wilde – me – in your little association?" Nick said, continuing to wave the money under the yak's muzzle.

Yax sneezed, shook his head (scattering a cloud of insects). "What would a member of Zootopia's finest – out of uniform, I see – have in our little establishment? Everything we do here is quite legal…"

"Understood. I want to purchase a month's membership. And unless your rates have gone up of late…"

Yax shook his head, and another cloud of insects rose up around him. "You know that we prefer not to have…"

"Mammals wearing clothes inside the compound, yes."

Yax shrugged. "We provide lockers and locks – you'd be expected to store your clothes and any valuables in the locker through that door," he said, pointing out the locker door.

"Fine. A lock, and … any membership card?"

"Oh, I think I'll remember who you are … though where is that cute little bunny that was with you … oh … it must be close to two years ago? The one who I thought was a bunny scout, but was actually a ZPD officer."

"She's not with me – and that's a good reason for me to be here. I need a bit of 'alone' time, and I think this would be the perfect place for it," Nick said, resting the two bills on the counter, and turning towards the lockers. "But you might improve the ventilation in here, Yax. The smell of the burning leaves is **_not_** from incense, and I would just as soon not take 'official notice' if you get my meaning," he said, as he walked over to the locker room.

#

Nick settled into the Jacuzzi with a contented sigh. The water was just the right temperature – neither too hot, nor too cool, and the leaves from the artificial tree provided just the perfect amount of dappled shade. _I don't even need dark glasses here. I should have thought of this as a hiding place_ _ **ages**_ _ago._ He closed his eyes, and settled deeper into the water until only his nose stuck out of the steaming water.

#

Someone else was sliding into the pool; Nick popped his head up out of the warm bubbly water and shook himself. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, before he gave up and rubbed his eyes in an attempt to clear them. Still half blind, he took a deep breath in through his nose and the scent of a familiar vixen, mixed with the steam of the Jacuzzi, drove into the back of his throat. He coughed, trying to clear his lungs of the pheromonal laden air.

"Not a bad imitation of a beached whale, Nick," a familiar vixen said. "Do you need any help?"

Nick finished clearing his eyes and trying (unsuccessfully) to clear his lungs of Edda's scent. "And just what are you doing **_here,_** Edda?" He carefully looked away from the vixen, thankful that the bubbles from the Jacuzzi's air jets obscured the view of the vixen's lower body.

"I **_could_** ask you the same thing, Nick. But do you mean here, in the Mystic Spring Oasis, or here in the Jacuzzi **_in_** Mystic Spring Oasis?" Edda said.

"Both?"

"Ah, so curious. Well, I bought a membership a couple of weeks back, when I started to get the 'itch'. And the Jacuzzi is a nice way to … relax … as well as reduce certain other stresses that develop with this time of the year. And looking away from someone with whom you are having a conversation – we are having a conversation aren't we? – is considered rude 'back home' in Podunk."

Nick took a deep, calming breath. "I'm trying **_not_** to be tempted, Edda."

Edda laughed. "Well, it's nice to know that I'm at least a temptation, Nick. I was almost beginning to think that I'd lost all appeal to tods. And considering what my body is doing right now – that was something of an emotional 'kick in the tail'. You do like my tail, don't you?" Edda said, as she lifted her brush up between her legs. With the fur of her tail waterlogged, it was more of a slender rod than its usual bushy brush.

Nick turned back to face the vixen. "Yes, I do. But considering what your scent is doing to me right now, I think I'll be on my own way…"

"Sure you wouldn't want to stay and enjoy this? It's warmer over on my side of the pool …"

"I think it's warm enough where I am. Now, would you **_please_** face away while I get out?"

"Afraid that I'll see something that I've not seen before? Well, Nick, in the interest of keeping your ears from flushing **_too_** much…" she paused, and turned her head away. "You can get out now, and I won't ogle you **_too_** much…"

Nick turned, put both paws on the side of the Jacuzzi and vaulted out onto the cement.

"You have nice buns," Edda called out to the rapidly retreating tod.

 _ **Nick's Apartment**_

"Come on, Fluff, answer your blasted phone!" Nick growled. _Just please answer,_ he thought. _Please!_

"You've reached the phone of Judith Hopps, I'm not available at the moment, but if you leave your …" Hopps' voice mail message began, and Nick broke the connection with a stab of the claw from his middle finger. A single heartfelt "damn" escaped the vulpine's lips.

He checked the time. _Now, where could she be? There wasn't any paperwork that couldn't wait until the morning, and she hadn't mentioned any get togethers. So, go for her apartment – maybe she might be in there._

 _ **Judy's Apartment, Twenty Minutes Later**_

Nick took the stairs three at a time up to the bunny's floor. At the top of the stairs, he paused for a moment to catch his breath and let his heart rate drop. _Not bad,_ he thought, _at least this running is doing_ _ **some**_ _good_.

A few steps further, and he was at the rabbit's apartment; when there was no response to the first four knocks he began pounding on the door with both fists. "Are you in there, Fluff? Come on, Carrots, answer if you're home!" he yelled, to be answered by yells from the next apartment over.

"Go away, Fox! She's sleeping! And so were we – be quiet!"

"Now you woke me up," a second voice bellowed from the same apartment.

"ZPD, shut up the both of you!" Nick bellowed in return, and resumed pounding on Judy's apartment door. He pounded, but he also listened carefully between bouts of pounding; after several minutes, he heard someone (or something) moving about inside the apartment.

"I can hear you, Fluff. Come on, open the door, please?" he said, in far more conversational tones.

The deadbolt slid back, the door chain clinked and tinkled as it swung back and forth, and the door creaked open. A bleary eyed bunny looked up at the fox. "Wha?" Her nose twitched, then her muzzle wrinkled. "Just what **_have_** you been up to, Nick?" she said, finally coming fully awake. "Come in, there's only the bed to sit on…but you're welcome…"

"To sit on the floor, I know," Nick said, as he strode in and settled down next to the lapine doe's small desk. He reached over and patted the desk chair.

Judy closed and relocked the door, and reset the chain before stumbling over to and settling into her desk chair. "Ok, foxie, what's the problem? You smell … odd."

"It's called being 'scent drunk'. I was … somewhere … and I thought I was safe. But a certain vixen…"

Judy reached over and took the fox's muzzle in her paws. "Did she do something to you?"

"Other than scrambling my senses with her scent? No. But I have no doubt that she would have **_liked_** to have done more."

"Did she step over the line on 'conduct becoming', Nick?" Judy asked, letting the fox's muzzle go, reluctantly.

"No … it's just that I wanted to be with you …" he managed to say, before his voice broke.

Judy took the fox's head in her paws again, and pulled him close. "You foxes … so emotional."


End file.
